


Charlie Becomes the Scientist's Bitch

by spirogyra



Series: Charlie, A Product of Science [1]
Category: It's Always Sunny in Philadelphia
Genre: Anal, Angst, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Explicit Language, Extremely Dubious Consent, Hand Jobs, M/M, Manipulation, Marking, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Oral, Recreational Drug Use, Spanking, Unethical Medicine, mild bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-20
Updated: 2013-11-20
Packaged: 2018-01-02 03:14:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 25,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1051864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spirogyra/pseuds/spirogyra
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The scientist wants to continue the experiment in making Charlie smarter. Charlie reluctantly agrees (because he needs the money), but he wasn't bargaining on any of this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. DAY 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [feriowind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/feriowind/gifts).



> This is dark and filled with manipulation and dubious consent (sexual and drug usage). There is lots of butt stuff that occurs.
> 
> This spawned from some conversation between feriowind and 7ns that I was not privy to except the end result: Charlie and science bitch.
> 
> All comments and criticism welcome.

"You were smarter, Charlie. Your arrogance did lead you to believe some things that were impossible, but … I'd like to continue with the experiment."

"No way, dude. You said I wasn't smarter and that all that shit was a lie. "

"Come now, Charlie. Who would know better if you were smarter: me or you?"

Charlie paused for a long moment. "Yeah, you don't know dick about me. I was smarter, god damn it. Though Police Academy is still a really good movie."

"Yes, of course. So would you like to continue with the experiment? Under my direct supervision this time." The scientist waited. "You will be compensated." He looked Charlie over quickly. "A hundred dollars."

It was the quickest response yet. "OK."

 

_**Charlie Becomes the Scientist's Bitch** _

 

"What's this asshole doing here?"

"He's gonna make me smart again."

Frank rolled his eyes. "Charlie, you weren't smart. You never will be smart."

"He gave me a hundred dollars, and bought me this fancy cheese."

"That is Kraft cheddar. There ain't nothing fancy about that. Don't be dumb, Charlie."

"Come on, dude, are you jealous? Just because last time you felt all left out and shit."

Taking Charlie aside by the arm, Frank whispered, "I don't trust this guy. He screwed you over before. What makes you think he won't do it again?"

But Charlie just snorted in dismissal. "He didn't screw me over. You guys just didn't believe I could ever be smart, that I'd always just do your shit work and be happy. And you'd make fun of me, call me stupid, and not give a shit about what I want." He paused, blinked, as he looked down at Frank. "Like right now. No, _you_ guys are trying to screw me over." He turned back to the scientist. "OK, science bitch, give me the pill."

"Actually, my name is-"

"I don't care!" Charlie yelled, his face very suddenly an alarming shade of red. "Give it to me!"

Fumbling in his pocket, the scientist pulled out a blue-ish pill and handed it over.

Charlie swallowed it without hesitation.

***

**[DAY 1]**

"I need to take a record of your vital statistics."

Charlie gave him a blank look.

"Height, weight, your pulse, temperature, things like that."

"Right, yes, of course, scientific method and all that. Don't you need your…?" Charlie gestured, mimed writing across his hand."

"I have a very good memory, Charlie. Now if you would remove your clothing so we can get started."

"Nope."

"Now Charlie…" He took a step forward.

Charlie took a step back. "I'm fine like I am. You can do all that shi-stuff while I've got my clothes on." He took another step back.

With a heavy sigh, the scientist shook his head, his lips pinched together in disapproval. "I won't get accurate results if you're fully dressed. Accurate results are the most important thing right now or we won't know how well the pills are working."

But still Charlie hesitated, frowning as he was very obviously puzzling things through.

"Why don't you just have some cheese and this… suspect brand of beer while I prepare. Don't worry, you've only had the first dose, a much smaller one than before. It may take a little longer for you to feel the full effects."

"Sure."

Out on the rickety stand the TV sat on, he laid out an impressive array of small instruments. Usually these tasks were left to his assistants, but he'd been in that position before after all, and remembered how to put on a very convincing performance. "Charlie, do we need to discuss this further, or are you going to cooperate for your benefit?"

The beer cracked open behind him followed by the loud sound of Charlie drinking it down. "It's like for science and shit."

"Exactly." He turned with the relevant instruments in the pockets of his white coat. "Let me help you."

"No way! Dude, that's-"

"Are you refusing to participate then? I can leave and find another subject at any time."

Everything about Charlie Kelly telegraphed doubt and a kind of nervous worry that bordered on fear. He was shifting his weight from foot to foot as he squeezed the empty beer can. "All right, all right!" Tipping the can to his mouth, he drained the last bitter swallow then threw the can aside. He popped the cheesestick in his mouth, eating it as he kicked off his shoes first. "I get another pill after this?" he asked around the string cheese in his mouth.

"If you're a good boy while I do this. Now…"

Charlie stepped on the toe of one sock and pulled his foot free, then repeated it for the other as he finished the cheese. Before he could get his shirt off (because he was still hesitating, still unsure), the scientists stepped and grabbed the hem. The shirt was pulled up and over his head even as he squawked in protest. "Shit, dude! What the hell?"

But before he could complain further, the scientist's hands were on the button of his ragged jeans. He started to slap them away, but one sharp glare, the unspoken threat that he would be replaced, and Charlie's hands fell to his sides with a quiet whimper.

"Yes, very good." The jeans were lowered to the floor so that Charlie was only in his dingy white briefs. "Step out, please." To help steady him, the scientist lightly cupped the back of Charlie's ankle, allowing his hand to slide up to the calf, then knee. "You're doing well, Charlie," he said gently as he stood, now just a touch too close, getting into Charlie's personal space. "Let's get started."

Height and weight. Pulse. Blood pressure. All of these things were taken with clinical precision.

And then it came time to take his temperature.

"Charlie, I need to take your temperature now."

Obediently, Charlie opened his mouth.

"No, Charlie. The other way, so if you'd just…"

"No. No. I'm not doing that. No fucking way. Just do it like normal, in my mouth. That's how my mom always did it."

"But Charlie, do you really want this thermometer in your mouth? After it's been in so many other people's mouths. Sick people. People with diseases. You don't want all that in your mouth, do you?"

"N-no…"

"Then you know what I have to do." First he snapped on a pair of latex gloves, then he slipped the little plastic cover over the end of the thermometer and popped open the bottle of lubricant, meeting Charlie's concerned gaze. "Would you like to? Or shall I?"

"I can do it myself! Jesus." With embarrassed indignation overcoming his doubts and worries, Charlie turned his back and lowered his underwear.

"Bend over slightly. Yes, just there. Relax." A significantly larger amount of lubricant was spread on the scientist's fingers before he ran them down Charlie's gluteal cleft, across his anus (which made the man hiss and flinch away), all the way down to his testicles. As he cupped them briefly, the scientist commented mostly to himself, "I should check for an inguinal hernia next time."

He ignored the subtle fidgeting as he dragged his fingers back up. "Relax, Charlie. You're not helping if you tense up." There was no sign of that happening though, so taking pity on his subject, the scientist went ahead and inserted the thermometer. His other hand was resting on Charlie's hip, not quite squeezing, but holding him firmly.

The moment, the silence stretched, until the thermometer beeped, and was removed. "All done. You can get your clothes back on."

Before the words were done being spoken, Charlie was yanking up his underwear and scrambling to collect the rest of his clothing.

"Perfectly average. That wasn't so bad, was it? Now we can move forward with your treatment." An even and serene smile was cast to his subject, who was zipping up his jeans. The probe cover and gloves were tossed into the nearest garbage can (overflowing onto the floor next to the radiator), and the scientist pulled a pill from his pocket. "And as I promised." He held out his hand.

Charlie yanked the shirt over his head, unmindful of the fact that it was inside-out, and snatched the pill away. As distrustful as he was of the scientists, he didn't hesitate to swallow the pill.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Charlie."


	2. DAY 2

**[DAY 2]**

"Charlie, you're-"

"Shut up, Frank!" Taking a deep breath, visibly calming himself, Charlie removed his headphones. "Why are you on my ass all the time? What, is it that I'm not doing everything you want to do?" The words refused to straighten themselves out in his head, the thoughts jumbled and angry and…

Helpless.

In that moment, without yelling, the words straightened themselves out, became a taught line like a wire between two posts. "You don't give a shit about me. This is about you, just like always."

Frank rolled his eyes. "You're gettin' confused again, Charlie. I don't think-"

"I'm not confused!" He wasn't confused, but the words were because nobody listened, no matter how clear he was, nobody gave two shits about him unless he was doing something for them. He and Mac used to be best friends, Charlie's only friend, and now Mac and Dennis were best friends.

Fuck those guys, making him live in a box, locking him in the basement, taking his money and making him do the work they didn't want to (whether he minded it or not was not the point), telling him what to do…

"I'm claiming agency."

"You write one play and you need an agent? This is just ridiculous. You don't know what you're talking about."

Up to _here_. Anything he might have tried to say to a reasonable person was lost. "Get _out!_ "

Clucking his tongue, like a disapproving parent (this man was not his father, no matter what), Frank started to leave the apartment. "Just don't come crawling to me when something bad happens!"

As the door slammed shut, Charlie yelled at it, grabbed the nearest object that fit in his hand and threw it. He pressed the heels of his hands first against his cheekbones, then over his eyes, feeling the tension build every passing moment. Mongolian Barbecue and Police Academy. That was all he was worth.

A soft knock on the door had him drop his hands, where the immediately balled into fists at his sides.

"Charlie?" The door opened slowly and the scientist peered in. "Charlie, are you ready for your dose?"

He was _not_ crying; he only turned away so he could look out the window at the stray cats sleeping on the broken fire escape. One of the cats, a fat gray tom, had a dead crow next to it. "Yeah." Charlie's voice cracked. "'M ready."

"Perhaps…" A light touch on his shoulder. "Perhaps we should go back to my apartment to perform this in a more controlled environment. Whatever's happened, I don't think it's helpful to your progress."

"Whatever, dude." There was nothing for him to take as he walked out.

  
  


It was easier to go through the whole process a second time in the clean, white bathroom, easier to shut his eyes and just smell the chemicals used to keep the mirror shiny and the sink white. Head down, eyes closed, don't look in the mirror, _try_ to keep relaxed even while _Christ_ that was a finger and that was meant to go up his ass _ever_.

Deep. Charlie sucked in a breath when something up there was brushed by the invading finger and a spark shot straight from there to his dick. It was so surprising he wanted to jerk away, but the counter was in front of him, and there was nowhere for him to escape to. Another hit and he was quickly sporting a semi, and very confused about what was happening.

"Any pain or discomfort?"

Charlie shook his head, almost violently, with his eyes not just shut now, but squeezed shut.

"Say something, Charlie. I want to hear you."

His voice was elusive, only coming out as a low groan before he could finally say, "Fine."

"Fine, or…?"

Again and again, trampling over any coherent thoughts and words until there was no denying what was happening. "Shit!" Charlie swore as he shot his load against the dark wood of the vanity. "Jesus." The removal of the finger barely registered as he struggled to remain standing while his legs wobbled. The shower came on behind him as he leaned heavily against the counter, panting.

"Come here, Charlie. Let's get you cleaned up."

It was just a few steps to go from the sink to underneath a warm stream of water. Immediately he put his hands up in an effort to block the water. "No, shit, stop it." He squirmed, like he was being physically hurt, and backed up only to be stopped by the scientist behind him.

"You'll feel better after you're clean. Let me help you, and then you can have your pill."

It was distinctly uncomfortable until the water started to loosen his tensed muscles, and skilled hands worked the soap across his skin. Wet and slippery, with his brain and body loose, disturbingly comfortable and unconcerned, Charlie allowed himself to be washed. When the water stopped and he was draped in a soft white robe, the trepidation returned. "My clothes-"

"Are filthy. And tell me what you've had to eat since yesterday."

Charlie shrugged, feeling guilty about his answer. What if he screwed everything up by not eating? "Some beer."

"We'll have to fix that. Here, you look tired. Go on, have a nap if you feel like it."

The bed was as soft as the robe, smelled clean like the bathroom, put him at ease even when he felt like it shouldn't. But something to eat didn't sound bad; he'd run out of energy balls a month ago, and hadn't had enough money to even make a batch with dogfood in place of the more expensive vitamins.

But before he could drift off, a single blue pill was placed in his hand. This one. This one would make him feel smarter.

  
  


It was still light out, the sun still streaming brightly through the window when he woke up. Other than how energized he felt, Charlie noted the smell of food wafting through the air, and his stomach growled loudly. A week of living on beer and whatever random food Frank brought home had caught up with him. The dogfood wouldn't even need to be baked to get him to eat it.

His clothes were in a tidy folded pile at the end of the bed, and he quickly changed into them, even the clean, new underwear. He left his shoes sitting next to the door as he wandered out into the tidy living space. That was where he found the scientist, sitting and reading a thick book. "Dude, I don't feel smarter."

The scientist looked up and set his book aside. "I told you, this is a smaller dose. It will take a little longer. Are you all right?"

Charlie frowned, idly plucking at his shirt. "What'd you do to my clothes?"

"I washed them. They were very badly soiled."

"They smell funny." Charlie lifted his shirt over his nose and inhaled deeply. "Like…"

"They're clean."

A wrinkle of his nose and disgusted curl of the lip, Charlie brushed his hand down his chest to smooth his shirt out. "Smells weird."

"Yes, well, that's… something that happens. Are you hungry? I'm sure it's done by now."

Even while he was looking longingly toward the kitchen, Charlie shook his head. "I should get home, in case Frank brought back something to eat. Before it gets too late."

"That won't do. I insist, so I can monitor your caloric intake." He stood and went to the kitchen quickly. "Here, I have several of your preferred brand of beer."

Hunger and desire for alcohol were driving Charlie slowly toward the kitchen, especially when he heard the crack of the can opening. Only when the cold can was gripped firmly in his hand and he'd taken the first long swallow did he flash a crooked smile. "Yeah, I bet Frank didn't bring anything back. He was a real dick this morning, said I was being dumb trying to get smart."

"How rude of him. That man is a poor influence, especially in these early stages. It can hurt your development."

Charlie shrugged, unable to defend Frank, but unwilling to insult the man further.

"I would prefer you not to return to that environment, not until I can verify you've reached your maximum potential."

"Got nowhere else to go, dude." But it wouldn't hurt to sit and eat, and finish off the rest of the beer, just to make Frank worry, because he totally deserved that. If he even fucking cared. Charlie slammed the rest of the can before tossing it away into a corner. "Shit, Frank always cheaps out and buys me kid portions anyway."

It was later, after his belly was full of food and he was on his fifth beer, that Charlie was feeling too tired to keep his eyes open. He was sliding lower and lower in the chair, unable to even lift the half-empty can to his mouth.

"You look tired, Charlie. Are you able to get home?"

With one eye barely cracked open, he saw the scientist peering at him. "Dude." Talking was difficult. "Did you… slip me benzos?"

"Perhaps. Is that a problem?"

Charlie was very intent on pushing his chair away from the table and getting really loud and annoyed, but he slipped to the floor instead, unconscious.


	3. DAY 3

**[DAY 3]**

The scientist watched Charlie emerge from the bedroom. He appeared awake, but confused, and steady on his feet even as he scratched his stomach.

"Did I dream that you slipped me sedatives?"

"No, Charlie. I did that. I'm sorry, but it was for your own good." He waited for a response, but Charlie just stood there and eyed him. "Are you upset?"

"Hnh. Nah, dude, but next time you wanna nod, you can just ask. That must've been some high grade shit though. Never been put out that fast before." With that said, he retreated to the bathroom.

"I have access to all kinds of drugs, given that I am a scientist specializing in human behavior."

"Cool." Charlie emerged from the bathroom (having not shut the door to begin with, nor flushed when he was done) with his hand at his groin, adjusting himself in his jeans. He yawned and stretched his arms over his head, raising his shirt to reveal his stomach and the waistband of his underwear peeking over his beltline. "Think I'm going back to bed."

"Be my guest."

Charlie shuffled back into the bedroom. Just through the edge of the doorway, his feet hanging off the edge of the bed were visible.

A curious development.

While Charlie slept, the scientist looked over his tentative programme. He went to the bathroom to prepare the necessary materials for later that day.

After that, he went to start lunch. No doubt Charlie would be hungry when he woke up.

  
  


"Tell me, Charlie, do you realize how you're obfuscating your meaning with an excessive amount of words?"

Chewing with his mouth open, revealing the mashed up chicken he was having for his lunch, Charlie shook his head. "I'm sayign exactly what I need to to get my point across, because that is the core of communication in any form, whether written or spoken, and to pollute my spoken thoughts with unnecessary verbiage is doing a gross disservice to both myself and those that I'm speaking with."

"Unnecessary verbiage. Interesting choice of words."

As he took a long drink of beer, Charlie nodded.

"It seems to me that the pills are starting to take effect. Do you feel that they are?"

"Definitely."

"I'll have to make sure to get a complete record today. Do you feel up for that?"

With another bite of chicken about to enter his open mouth, Charlie paused. "Complete record?"

The scientist nodded. "What you're already used to, and I'll need a sample."

"Sample?"

"This one is easy, but it'll wait until after lunch." He leaned forward, elbow resting on the table and thumb running across his chin. "The results I've seen so far are very interesting. I believe the lower dose is helping to balance your intellect increase with both the side effects and the onset of delusional behavior. It may be in part to your increased state of relaxation and comfort. I can tell by your eyes."

Immediately Charlie looked away and shifted in his chair. "Maybe," he mumbled, and took another bite of food.

"You should look at yourself in the mirror. I'm sure you'd see it too."

"That's-that's nothing." He was definitely blushing.

"If you insist. Your friends don't think much of you, do they? If they did, I don't think you'd have so many doubts about yourself." He stood and removed the empty plates. "I think with your increased intellect, you'll start to see some truths that your friends were keeping from you."

Charlie remained silent for a long moment, looking at the table, his fork still in his hand. "I like spaghetti. Nobody gives a shit that I like spaghetti."

"What else do you like, Charlie? What do you like in _life_?"

"I hate being told what to do."

"So you like being in control. I'm sorry these tests have taken you from your comfort zone then. Perhaps I can do something in the future that will make it more agreeable to you." He walked over and put his hand on Charlie's shoulder, squeezing it affably. "We should get started, and tomorrow it'll be better." For a brief moment, his hand slid over and up the back of Charlie's neck, just enough to get his fingertips into his hair. "I'll be waiting for you."

The scientist was utterly confident Charlie would follow. And indeed, he was only waiting for half a minute before Charlie showed up, looking not exactly happy, but there and so to some extent willing. "The usual procedures first, and then the sample, all right?"

With a resigned sigh, Charlie began to undress until he was down to his underwear.

This was becoming routine, and without Charlie hesitating each time something was asked of him, went quickly. Even the temperature taking.

"Now, the sample." He put the small plastic cup on the counter. "Fill that."

"You want me to piss in it? It's kinda small."

"No, Charlie. I want a sample of your ejaculate."

"My…? You want me to jizz in that?"

"I do. Is that a problem?"

"Physically, no. Just point and shoot, but it seems kinda weird, dude."

"You're not concerned about your reproductive health?"

"No way! I had a kid once, and he was a total shit. No kids for me."

"A kid once? Nevertheless, I insist. It only needs to be done once a week." He held the cup out to Charlie.

Even though he was looking at with distaste, he took it and held it gingerly between his index finger and thumb. "And I just…?"

"Just like you would normally. Just catch it in the cup when you're done."

"It's just… _weird_."

"Fine." With a put upon sigh, feeling frustration more than anything (certainly no clinical detachment), the scientist picked up the lube. "This is what you're forcing me to do? I thought you were going to be cooperative." True threats weren't required, just confident steps forward until he had Charlie pinned against the vanity, practically sitting on the edge of it.

Maybe he was a little rough, but this was something Charlie had to learn: cooperate and things go smoothly. Don't cooperate and things will be...complicated.

Without concern for the mess it might make, the scientist put an extremely generous amount of lubricant in his hand. Keeping his eyes locked with Charlie's, he put his hand down the front of the other's underwear. "Don't squirm. You made me do this." Not that it truly seemed to matter since Charlie was very rapidly swelling to full hardness at the first touch.

He pulled down the front of the underwear so his hand had more freedom of movement.  The first few strokes, Charlie's body was rigid with a combination of surprise and fright (simply going by the look on his face), but with each slippery twist of the hand, every drag of the edge of his thumb along the underside of the head, the smaller man relaxed.

It got to the point Charlie was actively arching his hips forward as his head fell back with his mouth open. The cup slipped from his hand, tumbling into the sink, as he flattened his hands on the edge of the counter to give himself more leverage, to start actively thrusting into the scientist's grip.

Leaning in closer, the scientist grabbed the cup and held it in position as Charlie groaned loudly.

"Fuck, dude!"

Every drop was caught in the cup before it was set on the counter away from the edge. "Very good, Charlie," the scientist said quietly, and ran his now-free hand through Charlie's hair. "That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Charlie was a _survivor_ ; he'd adapt, no matter how he felt at the moment. The scientist smiled.

  
  


"That wasn't cool." Charlie frowned. Sure, he'd used a washcloth to try and clean himself off (twice in two days even!), and he'd gotten off which was never exactly a bad thing, but by a guy made it feel off. Not… bad. "Not cool," he finished lamely as the scientist just looked at him.

"Your pill, Charlie."

And he took it while trying not to appear too eager. His crappy little phone started to ring in his pants pocket.

He ignored it.


	4. Chapter 4

**[DAY 4]**

"Let's discuss it. I think we can reason this out." The scientist gestured to the chair across from him. He waited for Charlie to sit, maintaining his completely neutral expression.

"Reason? I think we're going beyond reason." The moments he had where his thoughts were completely clear and lucid seemed to come and go, but he felt totally focused. Not even the beer before ten in the morning changed that.

"Are we? Or are you simply letting your emotions get in the way of what is important scientific work? I understand your trepidation, Charlie, because you don't the end goal, what we're trying to accomplish. In truth, while it's not beyond your understanding, I can't tell you so as to avoid-"

"Affecting the outcome."  He frowned suddenly. "Dude, have you been giving me placebos again?"

"They're working, aren't they?"

"I thought they were working last time too and it turned out you dicks were just making fun of me." Odd that at the time it hadn't actually bothered him, but now it was kind of insulting. No, it was _very_ insulting, and the longer he sat across from the scientist, the more upset Charlie got. "You can't just fuck around with a person like that. It's rude."

That actually made the scientist laugh, which was more infuriating. "Yes, I'll admit that was rather rude of my assistant, but that's why I decided to do this myself. And I'll say you have surprised me every day so far."

That put the fire of Charlie's anger right out, leaving him once more confused. "But last time-"

"Last time was an interesting experiment, but in no way comprehensive, nor did we get a proper baseline for you. It was shoddy university work, to be honest. But that's no longer relevant. What I do want to talk with you about is what you told me yesterday, how you didn't like people telling you what to do."

Now Charlie had completely lost his train of thought, even forgot what he'd been mad about. The last time someone actually talked to him about him was probably Dee's dumb lady doctor, but she just said a bunch of stuff that didn't make any sense to him. How could he possibly get _more_ skin? "Nobody ever just asks. It's always just 'Charlie do this' and 'Charlie do that'. If I didn't give them all my money for the bar, I'd…"

He'd given them his life savings--twice even--and gotten shit in return. Literally too. But then there'd been the excitement of running the bar (before they'd told him to go clean up the puke in the bathroom). And all the cool shit he'd found in the water underneath the boat before it had burned up. There was nothing good about being friends with Frank and Dennis and Mac and hanging around Dee without a bunch of terrible shit to go with it. A man shits the bed once on accident, live and let live, but then does it again and again for fun?

This was all really adding up to him getting fucked over by assholes he thought were his friends. Maybe it was better to be so pants-shittingly stupid he never noticed it.

Charlie looked up, determined, his thoughts calm and ordered once more. "I want to be smarter."

  
  


Deep breath.

Forceful exhale.

This was easy, nothing wrong with it.

But it was odd, to be in the bedroom instead of the bathroom. That removed a layer of detachment he could assign to it.

God damn, the pills _had_ to be working.

Pants, down to his underwear and socks.

"Rest of the way, please, and lie down on your side on the bed with your back to me. We'll be doing this in the Sims position. Are you familiar with that, Charlie?"

He shook his head as he stretched out. At least he had his back to the scientist and wasn't waving his dick in the wind.

"Put your arm under the pillow. Make sure it's comfortable. Let your other arm rest on your side, straight out. Just like that. Now bend your knee so your foot is flat on the bed. Perfect. Just like before, relax."

Just hearing the word relax made Charlie tense up, so he turned his face into the pillow and inhaled deeply the strange scent that clung to it. Slowly, in and out, not listening to the sounds of the scientist preparing the weird looking thing he'd showed him. And he'd tried not to be like his asshole friends and explain what was going on, but imagining it made him want to crawl under the bed and hide.

The touch was familiar, which didn't mean it was pleasant (but it _could_ be holy shit and just thinking about that was making him firm up), but he told himself this was something he could do. If it would help him get smarter, he could do it.

"I think you'll find that when you're clean inside and out, your perspective will change on what you put in your body."

And with that, a cool, slick finger pushed into Charlie for a moment, then exited. It was replaced a moment later something stiff and slender that went deeper  and deeper until it felt like it was going to come out his throat. That noise that he just made was not a whimper, absolutely not.

"Sh sh. It's fine. That part's over. Now we just wait."

A warm hand ran from the back of Charlie's neck down his back, the up to his shoulder, the repeated the path until the discomfort was a faded memory. His breathing was very loud with his face still in the pillow, but that gave him something to concentrate on along with the relaxing touch on his back instead of the full feeling in his guts. This whole thing had better make him see like those glasses at the movie to make it worth changing his perspective (whatever the hell that was supposed to mean).

"I don't feel so good," Charlie said, his voice small and meek, the exact opposite of his thoughts.

"We'll slow it down then. Take deep, shallow breaths and the sensation should pass."

This medical shit was too much. What kind of treatment made you feel shitty first to make you feel better later? No idea how long it had been, how long he'd been laying there with whatever it was up his ass, but it felt like _hours_. "How much longer?"

"You're halfway done, Charlie. Here, this will help."

"Wha-"

The scientist reached his over and started to rub his stomach while his other hand settled on the back of his neck. Every circle brought that dangerously close to his half-hard dick until it did finally brush against it.

Half became fully became straining as the hand continued to brush against it in a steady rhythm. Charlie squirmed, trying to find a little more friction, and the hand stopped.

"Keep still until we're finished. Then you can have some relief."

And the hand started again. Almost ten minutes later, when the scientist declared he was done, Charlie was sweating and his hands had the sheets and his own thigh in a white-knuckled grip. He was desperate to just grab himself and jerk it furiously until he came, but he also felt like he needed to get to the toilet in a hurry and take a massive dump. He was torn as to which one of those things took precedence even as the object was pulled out of his hole and the scientist draped a towel over his hip.

"Go and use the toilet, Charlie. Let it all out."

The towel was a help to hide his boner and as a safety in case he couldn't hold his quivering sphincter shut long enough. Taking tiny steps, careful not to move his legs so that his anal clench loosened, he hurried to the toilet. There was always relief in a good piss after he'd been drinking a lot, and a quick jerk when he'd waited a couple days between, but those were nothing compared to this.

His guts turned themselves inside-out and emptied themselves into the toilet in a disturbing stream of liquid. Curiosity and horror warred in him. He wanted to look, but what if something had gone wrong and it was a bloody mess? What if he really did shit out his stomach?  When he got the courage to look, what he saw was better than a bowl of his insides, but pretty disgusting even to him.

_Clean inside and out._

If that's what he looked like inside, he'd been way late to get cleaned. He'd never seen anything that nasty, not even in the sewer or Paddy's bathrooms.

Charlie slumped, leaning forward and bracing himself with his arms on his thighs. It was like instantly losing fifty pounds. "Fuck," he said quietly to himself as the rush of liquid slowed to a trickle. He took a deep shuddering breath, and even though his asshole felt like it was gaping wide enough to jam a beer bottle in, he felt better.

Other than his raging erection.

"Charlie?"

Panicking for no discernible reason, Charlie wiped himself and flushed the toilet, banishing the evidence of how disgusting he'd been. "I... I'm getting in the shower." He hadn't planned on it, but at least there he knew he could finally beat off.

Getting in the tub and closing the curtain, he turned the water on and bit back a yelp as the cold water hit him in the chest. "Son of a mother bitch ass shit!" he barked as he twisted from side to side in an effort to avoid the spray until it warmed up. It was enough to almost kill his erection. Almost. But then the water warmed and his dick demanded attention.

With his back to showerhead, Charlie leaned against the tile on his left arm while he started to stroke himself. Being wet make it a little rough, his rough palm dragging his skin, but also catching the head and providing enough friction to the point he knew he wouldn't last long.

"Ah good. I was going to suggest this," the scientist's voice said from the other side of the curtain. "Here, let me assist."

With nowhere to escape, Charlie just huddled into the corner of the shower, trying to block sight of what he was doing. When he spoke, his voice cracked. "I'm fine! I don't need any help, dude!"

"Nonsense."

The curtain was pulled back, but Charlie didn't dare look behind him.

"I said you would have relief."

An arm looped around his waist, and a hand closed lightly over his own on his dick.

"So you will."

It was slippery with something, and while Charlie was very good at getting himself off with his dry palm, that slide made his toes curl. It was so good, there was nothing else in the universe except slippery pressure on his dick, moving up and down, an unfamiliar pace, a stranger's grasp.

Charlie bit his own arm to hold back the yell when he came, but it wasn't enough to allow him to not notice the gentle pat on his naked hip.

"So very good, Charlie. Come get your pill when you're finished in here."

He was left alone, and after he'd turned off the water to scurry into the bedroom for his discarded clothes, there was a pill waiting for him next to them.

This developing situation demanded some thought.


	5. DAY 6

**[DAY 6]**

There had been no pills since that last one, and that was a problem. Charlie could feel it all slowly slipping away with his thoughts jumbled and his focus scattered. The easiest thing was to go back to the pub, but he could still hold it together enough to know that they'd yell at him for leaving them, for making them do all the shit work he wasn't there to deal with, laugh at him for thinking he could get smarter again, then put him back to work to keep on the same tired path.

To keep telling him what to do.

Yes, he was living in something worse than the rat infested box of his apartment, but it was under his own terms for the time being. While he could still come up with these things, make these plans, it was important to take advantage of it.

But more often he found his mind wandering, would catch himself staring blankly at the grafittied side of the pool with little more than the automatic function of breathing being processed in his brain. He'd heard something though, something on the news that said exercising made your body _and_ brain strong, and even though that wasn't his thing, it couldn't help to try.

A gym was out though; he couldn't afford one, and there was always the chance he'd see Mac or Dennis there, since they were stupidly obsessed with their physiques (or in Mac's case, other men's physiques). Charlie glanced around at the junk still littering the pool, the stuff they hadn't cleaned out that previous summer, and decided he could work with it. What was heavier than a ten year old TV?

That turned him immediately to another dilemma: he needed to get his stuff from the apartment. At the very least some clothes. He didn't trust Frank not to sell or burn everything, assuming the building was still standing. Shit, he didn't trust Frank not to burn or sell _that_. The only thing to do was to watch and wait for Frank to leave, then just duck in and grab his things.

Nobody came around the old pool anyway, and the tarp he'd set up would keep things dry. If it did rain, it'd all run to the deeper end anyway. So maybe it stunk a little bit, that was hardly a concern for him. But… maybe it wasn't quite him either, stopping and thinking _why_ he lived in a place that smelled like piss and worked in a place that always smelled like garbage, and the only reason he never worried about it before is that he was always drunk or high.

These questions, flashes of realization worried him because they were indicative of how blind and living in a drug-fueled fantasy world he'd been. Christ, it still made him wonder if living sober was worth the effort. This was the shit normal people worried about every single day, and it was _exhausting_.

Charlie climbed out of the pool, wanting to gather his things before he lost sight of his (limited) plan. This he was at least confident of, because Frank was in and out of the apartment at all times of the day and night; he'd have plenty of opportunity to sneak in if he was patient, and then… Damned if he knew what he'd do after that.

  
  


Fucking Frank.

The one night in all the time he'd known the man that he was staying in. What the hell?

Charlie pulled out his phone. Really, he hadn't wanted to contact the man at all, even just a text, but he also didn't feel like sitting out in the alley all night while feral cats yowled around him.

_meet me under the bridge_

If Frank didn't wonder about his sudden competency at texting or spelling… Charlie was realizing he'd never gave two shits about the consequences of his actions before, so why start now? If Frank had no doubts about the message he'd just received and went to the bridge only to be disappointed, too damn bad. Welcome to the life of Charlie Kelly.

It was only a few minutes after he sent the text that he watched Frank leave the building. That would give him a good twenty minutes at least to get all he wanted and get out. Kicking aside the cats swirling around his legs, Charlie hurried inside.

  
  


The weather was mild so it actually made sleeping under the tarp not too bad. It was certainly nicer than the box. And this property had been abandoned for years, making him think this was something he could _do_. Just concentrate, make a list of things he needed (however he had to acquire them--intelligence didn't put him above shoplifting), and he could do this.

Squatter's rights, yeah. If nobody kicked him out of there in the next twenty years or so, he'd own the property himself, assuming what he remembered Frank going on about was true. Odds of that though? Pretty fucking slim.

Clothes shoved in a garbage bag, as much beer as he could carry, and… He looked around the tiny room. This was all _his_ stuff, and somehow he'd just had it snatched out from underneath him.

This was his mother's fault, right from when he was a kid.

Lucidity _sucked_.

***

"Charlie, I was concerned."

Looking up from where he was cleaning the deep end of the pool interior (he'd gotten most of the graffiti off), he saw the scientist looking down at him from the edge. "Had shit to do."

"I can see that."

Charlie nodded, but didn't stop his scrubbing. "How'd you get in the gate?"

"Determination mostly. If you truly want to keep people out, you should consider more fencing atop the gate." He started walking along the edge of the pool.

Charlie had heard a couple people rattle the gate with the thick chain and new lock he'd put on it, but he hadn't considered someone might actually climb the thing. "Yeah, should've done that. Guess I'm just dumb." He scrubbed harder. A glance back and he saw the scientist climbing down his makeshift steps made of piled junk into the pool.

"You're not curious how I found you?"

"Nope."

"It wasn't easy."

The footsteps came up behind him, but Charlie's concentration was on getting the last stubborn spraypaint off. He bent down to get more cleaner on his brush and almost jumped out of his shoes when a hand settled on his hip. "What are you doing, dude?" Charlie snapped as he turned and put his back against the pool wall.

"I'm trying to help you, Charlie. Can't you see that?"

"I know I've had way more stuff up my ass in the last week than pretty much my entire life."

"But you feel better, don't you? Smarter, _in control_."

He hated the way the scientist was always right, and the way the man stalked him just by taking two steps forward.

"Here, I don't want to see you lose any progress. You deserve more."

Right in front of him now, and pressing a pill into his hand. It took all of Charlie's self-control (already running dangerously thin with his thoughts scrambling to find some kind of foothold in his brain) not to immediately swallow it.

"Go on, Charlie. My gift to you."

But Charlie just held on to the pill. In his experience, a gift was never really just a gift. There was always an expectation for something in return.

With a small tsk, the scientist took the pill back, holding it between two fingers. "You know, others might criticize you for living like this, but I am so proud to see you doing what _you_ want. That's how I can truly see your progress in the real world."  He held the pill up.

Sliding to this right, Charlie put his foot right in the bucket he'd been using for his cleaning solution, sloshing it all up his bare leg. Why had he chosen this of all days to wear his work shorts? "Shit, dammit." His shoe was soaked straight through.

That moment of hesitation allowed the scientist to put his hand on Charlie's shoulder and hold him in place. "Here, take it. You like it." Closer still.

And before Charlie could voice his refusal, the fingers holding that pill slipped into his mouth, leaving that little gift on his tongue. When the fingers retreated, pulling very slightly on his lower lip, and came up under his chin, Charlie had no choice but to swallow.

"However, it seems your choice of attire is distinctly unsafe in this environment."

"My work shorts?"

The scientist laughed lightly, and with his right hand still on Charlie's shoulder, his left plucked at the frayed jean shorts. "Work shorts? Charlie, these are nearly indecent." His hand slid lower to the uneven hem of the shorts. "So short." Higher, lifting the material slightly, and then fingers stroked the soft swell of his ass.

"Uh…"

The fingers moved higher and actually took hold of the flesh, squeezing lightly. The scientist ducked his head slightly. "Tell me, are you in control, Charlie?"

In truth, Charlie felt entirely out of control. "Y-yes…?"

Another smile, a warm sincere smile. "Stay here if you prefer. I'll bring your pill over in the afternoon."

A long moment where he didn't breathe, the scientist close and his hands holding Charlie, before the moment was abruptly broken.

The scientist stepped back, hands at his sides. "If you need anything, Charlie, please call. I only want to help you."

Charlie didn't move from his spot against the pool wall until he heard the scientist make his way over the gate. His project of cleaning the space up was forgotten.


	6. DAYS 9 & 10

**[DAY 9]**

Sweat rolled down the back of his neck to soak into the collar of his t-shirt as he sat on the edge of the pool with his feet dangling down. Charlie pulled a beer from the bucket filled with ice and took a long drink before returning to eating his sandwich.

"I know you're comfortable here, Charlie, but I'm slightly concerned that I've not been able to monitor you properly." The scientist was sitting on the edge, leaving a respectable space between them.

Charlie shrugged. "Just tell me what you want." Being smart was work; he never got to have fun anymore, not like he used to. No getting high with Dennis in the office. No making fun of Dee and laughing at her when she screeched like a bird. No Mac, his oldest friend even if he was a traitor and hung out more with Dennis. No playing nightcrawlers with Frank.

No getting high. Odd how much he missed that, even while he still drank every day. Personal insight told him more than he wanted to know, that he liked the complete lack of expectations, both from him and of him.

Christ, he'd found a spray can amongst the junk, but tossed it away without even a little whiff. How could he both miss it _and_ throw it away when it was in his hand? "Being smart is complicated," he finally said, and took another drink.

"It is. I won't lie about that, Charlie, but it also gives you freedom, and options. A smart man like you doesn't have to settle, you don't need to lower your standards. That woman, for instance. What does she have to offer you?"

Lots. She had lots to offer if she would ever _want_ to. Sure, he'd been not always a gentleman to her, but even when he was, she insisted on being completely rude. He hadn't invited her to sit down with him, but when she had, she'd treated him like he was in the wrong.

She hadn't asked. She'd taken control from him. Her and Frank.

"You need to leave those old things behind, the things that you thought made you happy when you didn't know any better."

Charlie held the cold bottle up to his forehead and let out a long breath.

"Weren't you happier with more intellectual pursuits?"

"I don't know." He didn't know how or why he'd been happy before. He wanted to be smart, but he wanted things to be simple too. Because even sleeping had gotten complicated

_take your pill and put your filthy rat-diseased hands on me, Charlie_

and left him more tired than before he'd laid down.

"Tell me what's bothering you. Is it something about the treatment itself? Are you experiencing side effects?"

Looking up, the cold beer in his hand a comforting thing, Charlie said, "The… touching shit, I don't like that, dude. Another guy shouldn't be touching my dick."

"Is that all?"

Charlie gaped, his eyes opening wide in disbelief.

"You are an adult, Charlie. I am an adult. We are both intelligent people. Let me suggest this to you: there is nothing inherently wrong, morally or physically, with a relationship between two equals that is professional. And I might venture, for future rumination as to how society views these things with such a narrow and impulsive judgmental eye, a purely sexual interaction. Take all emotion out of your decisions, look at things with an unflinching critical eye, and decide what is best for you and what you want."

"Who's obfuscating now?"

The scientist laughed, and placed one of the familiar pills on the concrete. "Still, I'd like to continue to monitor you and your progress."

And though Charlie was still baffled, what he'd been told started slow, rusty gears turning in his head.

**[DAY 10]**

He waited until the sound of traffic outside his little kingdom was loud enough to disguise the sound of the water, even to people walking past. Unpinching the hose allowed the water to flow freely, pouring down on him. Even if he was standing naked in an abandoned pool, it had been easy to adjust to washing himself every day when he had a little privacy.

"Good morning, Charlie."

"Jesus!" There was no need to look; he knew who it was. "Can you give me a God damn minute?"

"Did you think about what I said?"

"Depends."

"On?"

Turning to save a little bit of modesty, though it seemed something of a lost cause at this point, Charlie reached up and pinched the hose shut. He kept his back to the scientist as he wiped as much water from himself as possible, then got dressed. "Have you been coming on to me?"

"Of course not, Charlie. That would be unethical. You are the subject in a very important experiment. For me to interfere in such an extreme way would not only call the entire thing into question, but also potentially ruin any results, make the findings uncertain. You _must_ have been pursued before to know what that's like."

No, actually, he didn't, and that's why he'd asked. He might've been dumb before, but he was familiar with playing games, mean games, with people, making shit _personal_ with them, and they never saw it coming. Because they thought he was stupid.

Every time he tried to have a conversation with the scientist, Charlie's thoughts always came back to how dumb people thought he was. And maybe if he'd stop hiding from it, he'd actual be able to say that he'd been as dumb as a sledtrack. Shit, he didn't even know what a sledtrack was. "I don't wanna talk about it."

"I think it's important that we do. I need to be aware of which direction we're moving from. And if these mood swings I'm witnessing are from the pill or coming from somewhere else."

"You mean like the shower where some dude jerked me off?" Charlie was more angry about the fact that the scientist was unphased by the question than the fact that yeah, he'd been jerked off in the shower by some dude.

"You didn't seem to have any problem."

"Come on! You don't just…! I mean, I usually… I don't have other people do that for me!"

"But you felt better."

Charlie wanted to throw something, turn that irritating accent to a gargle of blood and teeth. "I don't want-"

"Be very careful what you say, Charlie. I don't want you to think I'm threatening you, but if you're about to declare that you don't want anything I have to give you, you might as well move back into that horrid little cell that stinks of cat piss and rotten meat right now. Return to your bar, go down in that basement and kill more rats until you forget what it was ever like to be your own man."

"Fuck." Charlie hung his head. He didn't want to go back to that ever.

"Let me get you some lunch."

He was about to refuse.

"And a drink."

  
  


It turned into five drinks, and alcohol did things to his thinking. Sometimes it was good, sometimes it was bad. It certainly didn't help his judgment at all, lowering his threshold for doing stupid shit down to its absolute lowest point.

Certainly that was why, after taking his pill, downing that fifth pint of beer, and heading to the bathroom, he just kind of stood there with a dumb look on his face as the scientist steered him away from the urinal and into one of the stalls.

It was different, to have one arm across his chest, holding him tightly, while the other did all the work. Both of Charlie's arms were trapped this way, his stress was low, his thoughts sluggish and non-combative, as that unfamiliar touch took hold of him.

Unlike Charlie's hand, the scientist's was smooth, uncalloused, and cool. There was nothing inherently more pleasing about the way he moved his hand, twisted and stroked, but the simple fact that it was a stranger very politely getting him off was the hottest thing about it. And he'd never done anything quite this crazy in a public bathroom. Lots of other stuff, but not _this_.

With a relaxed sigh, even as he was ramping up, Charlie leaned slightly backwards. There was no sound other than the quit drone of the music piped throughout the restaurant until it happened suddenly. Charlie sucked air between his teeth and let out a strangled, gasping, "Fuuuuck," and hoped vaguely it made it into the toilet. Or at least he wouldn't have to clean it up himself.

"I'm starting to get a very clear picture of how you feel, Charlie."


	7. DAY 11

**[DAY 11]**

The first important thing to admit was that he couldn't read well at all. That wasn't entirely his fault though, just bad circumstances, so he wasn't going to be ashamed by it, no matter how often it had been the basis of ridicule. But he did have a pretty good memory when he wasn't high or drunk, so lots of what he heard stuck with him.

The day passed so slowly when he was perfectly aware of everything around him (because being a little buzzed didn't count toward _anything_ ), so he filled the time with cleaning the pool out further and listening to whatever shit on cassette tape he could find. No more music; the classical stuff made him relaxed and tired, and he remembered something vague from the news about how making his brain work would stimulate him physically, and…

Charlie yanked the headphones off, abandoning the voice of Fritz Weaver as he narrated _The Prince_.

_Niccolo Machiavelli, first published in 1532_

_1532 was a long-ass time ago; people actually wrote shit down that long ago? What was Philly like back then?_

It was better to fill his head with some kind of noise, better to drowned out the nagging thoughts that never seemed to stop. The thoughts that asked him what he was doing, what he _thought_ he was doing, and just what was he thinking of when he'd rubbed one out that morning?

Imagining a hand that wasn't his, that wasn't the waitress (because she'd been the only one he'd ever thought of before)(but shit she didn't care about him, no matter how nice he was, how much he did for her), and he was sweeping the same spot to accomplish nothing.

"Shit shit shit." Charlie climbed out of the pool, making sure the tarp was tucked in to avoid his bed getting soaked in case of rain, then snuck out the gate when the coast was clear. This wasn't something he didn't really want to do, but he had to do it.

  
  


"Charlie, I-"

"I've got something to say, science bitch," Charlie snapped, cutting the scientist off while jabbing his finger in the other man's face.

"Come now, Charlie, that's not the way civilized people talk to one another. Come inside."

Angry, once again at the scientist's ability to not get mad, Charlie pushed past him. He only realized his mistake once the door was shut and the deadbolt locked behind him.

"Did you think things through? Do you see how your intelligence puts you above other people when you're truly able to divorce yourself from the instability of emotion. Reason and emotion are in direct conflict with one another, and cloud your decision-making, especially in regard to your well-being."

"Stop talking! Shut up!" It was too confusing, especially when Charlie considered back to his effort at the bar to take emotion out of running the place ( _"Reason will prevail!"_ ) and what a complete fucking failure that had been.

But that was all Mac's fault, wanting make a bar a Catholic bar, like that made any damned sense. Pickles in beer and a giant bloody cross... Paddy's had never been a good bar, but with shit like that, it was straight up ridiculous. They were down to a single regular, and he hadn't even bothered to pay the last time he'd been there because the group had been so involved in yelling at one another. Charlie took a deep breath, not thinking about how he was locked in. He was not a rat in a trap.

He was a man. "You're using me just like my friends did," he said evenly, though his eyes could not meet the scientist's.

"I suppose I am, in a way, but that's an unfortunate thing that happens in science, especially human trials. There will always be those who are 'used' because there simply is no other way. I am sorry you feel this way though. Here, sit. Are you hungry? Would you like a beer?"

In fact, Charlie wanted about seven beers more than anything in the world, but the last time he'd had that much to drink with the scientist, well... First time for shooting his wad in a public bathroom for everyone, right? Though he didn't feel particularly proud, certainly not enough to ever tell anyone about it.

"You're hesitating. Something's bothering you."

"Shit yes something's bothering me!" He marched over to an overstuffed chair and flopped down in it. "And, uh, I'd like a beer."

"Of course, Charlie. Gather your thoughts while I get that for you."

He was gone longer than it took to get a beer. Charlie was very familiar with how long that took, and was more anxious than anything as he waited; his thoughts were just as scattered when the scientist came back with a beer and a bowl of chips.

"In case you wanted something to snack on." The scientist took a seat on the couch opposite the chair, sitting casually, like the two of them had no worries at all. "Now, what were you going to say?"

Now frowning at the chips (name brand even), Charlie grabbed a few and shoved them into his mouth.

"There's something bothering you, and I have an idea it's that you don't feel in control. I-I'm hoping these feelings will even out as you continue to take your pills."

Charlie shifted uncomfortably in the chair, sitting up a little as he set the chips aside to take a drink of beer.

"But I'm limited in what I can do for you if you refuse to come here so I can-"

"Monitor me, yeah, I know. You keep saying that, but it sure as hell doesn't _feel_ like it. Seems more like you're just getting off on…" Getting him off. What kind of sense did that make?

"I was concerned about that initial sample you gave. The results came back, and your numbers are of some concern."

"Concern? Something's wrong with my dick?"

A soft, low laugh. "No, that's in perfect working order. It's the quality of your semen."

Immediately Charlie's lip curled in disgust. "Dude-"

"No, Charlie. Why are you not more concerned about your health? This could indicate a serious problem, and the best way to find this out is by having you ejaculate at least once a day, and taking weekly samples for analysis."

"Shit, dude, how dumb do you really think I am?" There wasn't anything wrong with his balls.

"I don't think you're dumb at all. I do think you've not had access to adequate healthcare in quite a long time, and that your diet is lacking, you drink too much, and you take recreational drugs on a regular basis. Does this sound right?"

"...Yeah. Shit."

The scientist clapped his hands on his thighs as he stood. "Shall we do that immediately then? Get that unpleasant business out of the way, and then you can take your pill."

Hearing the words again, he started to firm up. This was not good at all. "Fine, cup of jizz, that's what you want, right?"

"You don't need to be so crude about it. I'm trying to help you."

"Just give me the cup, and I'll go do it by myself. _By myself._ "

"Of course, Charlie. I'll get everything you need."

It didn't escape notice that the scientist retreated to the bedroom to get these _things_. And while he had the moment, he went to the bathroom so he could hide his boner. The science bitch would get his damned sample, and then…

Then he didn't know. This was something he'd never dealt with. Everything in his life was new and different; the realization was suddenly overwhelming. His legs started to give out, and sat on the toilet to stop himself from hitting the floor.

It was telling how badly it'd gotten to him when he didn't react to the scientist stepping into the bathroom with him.

"It's fine, Charlie. We don't have to get it today." The scientists crouched down and put his hand on Charlie's knee. "Please tell me what the problem is. This is something different than before."

He was being so God damned nice, how could Charlie be mad at him? "Never… Never been in a spot like this before," he answered, unsure of what even to say now. The scientist was way too nice, even if the rest of the shit was shady, and even that didn't make sense.

"Like what?"

"Like someone actually gives a shit. I'm not stupid." Maybe he wasn't eating great, but it was better than before, and he wasn't fucked up all the time to distract himself from how shitty life was, and he could almost believe there was an actual future. "I'm afraid. What am I gonna do?"

"Right now, you're going to lie down and not worry about anything. I should have thought that this would be a very disruptive process to the life you'd been leading. I'm sorry, Charlie. I've been thoughtless, especially to someone in such a delicate state."

His hand was warm and soft when it took hold of Charlie's, not cool and smooth like he remembered it. But that detail was unimportant when the last time someone had held his hand was so long ago he didn't truly remember. It was a little like being a child again, but he didn't feel that helpless. No, it was nice to relinquish control _when he wanted_ , and allow himself to either not think at all, or think without worrying.

Sometimes it was neat to just be able to think even if his thoughts were troubling lately.

"Just on the couch. Would you like a blanket?"

"Yeah." This was way nicer than the lumpy and unforgivably flat fold-out couch he was used to, though not as cozy as his nest in the pool.

"Let me get your shoes."

His shoes were tugged off, and Charlie wiggled his toes as a blanket was draped over him. "Thinking is work, dude."

"I know, Charlie. It takes a lot out of you, doesn't it? You have a responsibility to use your brain now."

"Yeah." The plastic cup was still in his hand. With the blanket, this was as comfortable as his nest. But this was something he could probably get used to because he had control finally.

Finally.

***

Control of himself and his thoughts and emotions, and it was really freeing. He was getting more of what the scientist was saying. Getting it and agreeing with it. When it was suggested that he give a sample now, before they had dinner, Charlie nodded. He wouldn't even go so far to describe it as a necessary evil. It was certainly no worse than cleaning the bathrooms at Paddy's, or dragging a dead hooker from his apartment, so his previous reluctance felt really childish.

Jerking off was practically his second job anyway, he just hadn't found a way to get paid for it yet.

It was an astoundingly quick process, like he was a kid again and just figuring out that rubbing his dick felt really _really_ good, without all the bullshit worries and dumb ideas. It was just a physical thing, like chasing that feeling of floating with a can of turpentine, that he could follow as easily as walking down the sidewalk. Just a last twist and a squeeze with his thumb running right across his head, and that knot in his gut and his balls untied itself.

  
Charlie emerged from the bathroom with a self-satisfied grin on his face. He was definitely ready for dinner.


	8. DAY 15

**[DAY 15]**

"Would you like to try something, Charlie? A test of your intellect. I think you've had a break-through, and I'd like to see how quickly you've progressed since then."

Without a doubt Charlie would say he'd had that break-through, finally _getting it_. Certainly if he hadn't, he wouldn't have decided to continue with having his vitals taken and the strong suggestion of making sure he'd rubbed one out every day. "Sure."

"Let's plan for later then. I'm sure you're busy today, continuing with the pool. Around dinner perhaps, unless you have other plans."

"Yeah, sure." Charlie smiled suddenly. "I got paint. For the sides." He'd worked his ass off over the past four days to the point the pool actually looked like it had been used for swimming within the past six months. He'd run power from the building next door, and while the old showers and attendant shack could serve as a place to sleep, he didn't trust it at all. It was more infested by vermin than his old place, and not just rats. Really nasty shit, like roaches and ants.

"You haven't been sniffing it, have you?"

"No way, dude! That shit is expensive. Can't afford to dick with it like that." Because he'd tried and learned paint cans, real ones, were impossible to steal. Too big, too heavy, and spray paint didn't give the good coverage he needed.

"That's very good to hear. So we'll meet back here at six? Then we'll run through the usual before we try this new experiment."

***

Gone were the steps made of piles of garbage. Charlie had fashioned himself a step ladder from various bits of leftover junk and anchored it to the old diving board. His bed was in the corner closest to it with the tarp secured over it, and the hose was at the far end. There was no drain, of course, but he spilled so little water that it evaporated by the next morning.

He was a damned efficient squatter, and a pretty decent thief. According to Machiavelli, that was fine as long as it helped him be his own person and get away from what had been holding him down before. Means to an end, that was all, and he wasn't hurting anyone.

The old depth markings and graffiti were gone on one section, leaving just a clean white surface. Yeah, this was going to work. From his vantage point, Charlie noticed some of the sheeting across the fence was starting to fray at the top. He'd been keeping on top of that with duct tape, though was starting to consider collecting scrap plywood to line the fence as well. It was warm out now, but when winter hit, he'd want to stop the wind as best he could.

Jesus, long-term planning for living in a fucking pool. There was something very wrong with that, but it was OK too, because it was his choice. It was a conscious decision to not live with Frank, to take care of this pool, and to make it his own (it was temporary, he knew it was, someone would show up eventually and make him leave). It was his, though, completely his until someone made him leave. Maybe he'd even put up a little of a fight (but not much).

His stomach rumbled. He'd not had anything to eat since earlier, keeping to a strictly liquid diet so he was pleasantly buzzed (but not woozy) as he cleaned up the paint. It was starting to get late, and he needed to go meet the scientist.

 

 

"Come in. I thought we could just order in tonight if that's all right with you."

"That's cool."

"Would you prefer to eat first or get started?"

A nervous twist in Charlie's stomach. "We should… get started."

"All right. Why don't you get ready in the bathroom? I'll be there shortly."

Getting ready was something he dragged his feet doing, but it couldn't be avoided. He undressed slowly, folding his shirt and jeans up, then balling his socks together and setting them on top. His underwear stayed on until it was necessary for it to come off, because there was just something about being naked in somebody else's place all casual like that made him super uncomfortable.

But maybe the worst thing was, and a definite reason he went along with this stuff, that Charlie was starting to think he'd peaked. He was starting to worry that he wasn't getting smarter, and maybe _couldn't_ get smarter. What if his brain was just… full? What if he was broken and just couldn't learn things?

"Charlie, you look tense. What's wrong?"

He looked up from where he'd been leaning against the sink, only to meet his own concerned gaze. "I don't think the pills are working. I don't think I'm getting smarter."

"Nonsense. This is something expected, that things would reach a level and slow. You shouldn't concern yourself with it after such a short amount of time. Do you realize you've been taking the pills for less than two weeks? Rome wasn't-"

"Built in a day. Yeah." But Rome wasn't going to collapse back into a small collection of mud huts if it didn't take its pill every day either.

"Charlie, listen. You mustn't worry. You'll see that everything will be fine; you just have to give it a chance. And when you're worrying, you're skewing your numbers. If they come up too high, I'll have to cut you off the pills completely."

"No. No, don't do that. I need them or… Dude, I don't wanna get stupid again." The thought actually scared him, though he couldn't say why exactly. It was just a dread in his brain of falling back to something that he knew he was better than now. If it took doing some things that he wasn't proud of, but ultimately didn't hurt anyone, that he could do. Charlie managed a little smile. Him being all pragmatic… Who would have thought?

"Charlie?"

"Nah, I'm fine." He nodded, giving permission for the process to start. It was quick, honestly, when he finally stopped being such a pussy about it.

"Very good. And now, you see the inherent benefit in being able to separate yourself from your emotions, yes?"

"Yeah." There was a really uncomfortable vulnerability in wearing only his underwear here, when he should be getting dressed, but the scientist was standing right in front of them.

"It's an interesting idea, an evolutionary paradox, that emotions are what separate us from animals, but also hinder our higher brain functions."

It made sense when it was explained like that. Charlie remembered very vaguely some of what he'd heard in high school almost twenty years ago.

"Sex separate from emotion is both an animalistic thing, but also something that can only be truly enjoyed by a person with a superior mind. What I wish to test with you is how far you've come with this advanced reasoning." The scientist started to unbutton his shirt. "Are you ready, Charlie?"

Charlie stared, thinking this was something he wasn't ready for at all. But this was part of the experiment, a test for him. If he couldn't manage it, what did it say about him? Maybe he didn't deserve to be taking the pills then, just proof that he wasn't smart enough and never would be. "What are you gonna do to me?"

"Are you scared?"

"No!"

"Good. There's no reason to be. This will be very simple, so why don't you start the shower. Whatever temperature you prefer."

Fuck fuck fuck. His heart was hammering now and his muscles were locking.

"Don't do that, Charlie. No freezing up." The scientist turned Charlie toward the shower, then leaned around him and started the water running.

Charlie's feet felt glued to the floor; he had no idea how to react at all. A hand skimmed down his side, tickling as it feathered over his ribs, then fingers dipped between his hip and underwear.

"Remember, Charlie, separate yourself from your emotions."

The voice was very close to his ear. That certainly didn't help at all. When he spoke, his voice was very quiet and distant. "Dude…" The brush of a body behind him as his underwear was lowered. "Dude," he repeated, "I don't…"

"Are you quitting, Charlie? You know what that will mean: no more pills. You agreed to this experiment to show me how advanced you are. How _smart_ you are."

He could do it. He _had_ to do it. Charlie Kelly was _smart_. So he stepped out of the underwear pooled at his feet and into the shower, though he faced the spray, let it blind him and soak his hair because he couldn't face whatever was going to happen next.

The light went out, plunging the room into a gray twilight. That put Charlie a little more at ease, preferring the dark in a situation like this.

"Remember, there's nothing sexual here, Charlie. This is a simple biological function. I'm simply here to assist you."

The touch is tentative at first on his back, sliding across his shoulders. It wasn't just water making it so slippery; the scientist had soap or something on his hands. And the worse thing about it, as the long strokes down his back became more sure and strong, was that it felt pretty nice. This was it, just biology, with the heat and the pressure on tensed muscles combining for a sensation he'd never experienced before.

Down his back, up, across his shoulders and down his arms. Closer. Down his sides, over his ribs, sliding across his chest with a gentle scrape over his nipples. No way to hide his quickly hardening cock. The hands left him for a moment, then returned to dribble water down his back, rinsing away the soap on his neck and shoulders.

Gone again, returning with more soap, but this time the scientist was more to his side so he could easily reach over to take hold of his hard-on. Charlie was expecting what happened next, and couldn't stop himself from clenching, though under the water and with the soap it did no good.

The scientist's hand ran easily down the crack of Charlie's ass until it found his hole, that was already relaxing once more. Biting his lip hard, Charlie thrust his hips forward before he leaned forward and planted his hands on the wall in front of him. He'd need it, because he knew what was going to happen even before a single finger slipped inside him. He grunted and jerked his hips involuntarily as pressure was applied to that mysterious spot inside him.

"Don't be embarrassed, Charlie. Let yourself go. No one will judge you." He sped up the movement of both his hands, stroking down to the root and almost removing his hand completely off the end only to pull it roughly back down.

It didn't take much of that, along with the pleasurable pressure in his ass, to get Charlie actively fucking the scientist's hand. The water hitting him drowned out even the sound of his own heavy breathing, of his own thoughts, until his fingers curled into fists and he didn't know whether to thrust forward or backwards as he came, experiencing both near-pain and a blinding pleasure he'd never felt before.

Surprisingly strong arms held up his sagging body as a mouth and teeth worried the skin over the back of his neck. Very weakly Charlie pulled away, leaning on the vanity to get out of the shower, and dripping water everywhere. It was effort to get his clothing on while his arms and legs were limp and his body was wet, but he was managing. He glanced over once at the scientist, then looked away and turned his back.

The man was watching him and very lazily stroking himself.

Charlie did up his jeans in a hurry and retreated from the bathroom. He was about to leave when he remembered: he hadn't gotten his pill yet. Even though he wanted to leave, go back to the pool and hide, Charlie stepped away from the door and went to sit and wait.


	9. DAY 15 (late) & DAY 16

**(DAY 15 late)**

Charlie stood outside Paddy's with his hand on the door. He wasn't sure why he was there, or what he'd say, but after an extremely awkward dinner and taking his pill, this was where he'd gone.

_"So this means I'm smarter?"_

_"Beyond my expectations. If only your friends could see you."_

And this suddenly became a very dumb idea, to think they'd be impressed, that they'd believe he was more intelligent. To them, he was always going to be stone they walked on to avoid getting their feet dirty, which made so little sense because they'd been in so much shit together, how could they claim to be above him?

Drug Charlie, lock him in the basement, replace him, ignore him until it was convenient for them, take his shit, take his money…

Charlie opened the door and walked into the familiar sight and smell of the place. The familiar silence as well, with only one person in a booth nursing a beer. Apparently at hearing the sound of the door, Dennis and Mac emerged from the back office.

"Charlie! Where you been, bud?" Dennis asked first, smiling.

"Yeah, dude, it's been weeks. Frank says you haven't been back to your place at all."

For a brief moment, Charlie started to grin.

"Says he needs rent right away."

The grin disappeared.

"And the basement is covered in rat shit," Dennis added. "Those traps don't do a damned thing. So why don't you just get down there and start cleaning it up."

"Oh, and the second urinal has been clogged for like a week, and it's really starting to get close to overflowing with piss," Mac said helpfully. "Good to have you back, buddy."

"Yeah, if you can just get this place cleaned up by morning, that'd be super."

Realistically, he should have been expecting it, but this time it really actually hurt that they valued him so little. They'd say how much they needed him, but that was only to do the things they didn't want to, and didn't want to pay someone else to. And even Frank, who sometimes defended him from their exploitation, didn't seem to mind his absence much.

"I won't be doing any of that," Charlie said evenly. "I'm better than that, and I'm better than you." He was pleased with the way the steel crept into his voice at the end, because getting mad at these people did nothing. There was only so much being strong in the face of their ignorant insistence did as well. There was only one true solution: to walk away.

Charlie turned and walked out.

The walk back to the pool felt longer than it was with his mind blank, utterly blank. The control he thought he'd had… Maybe he did still have it, but it was something like being in control of a boat anchored in concrete: what good did it do? Where could he go? What could he do with it?

With no one around, he reached in through the tarp to open the padlock and let himself in. Maybe he'd just have to crawl down into his nest and sleep for a few days.

_Like a rat._

Fuck.

***

**(DAY 16)**

Sleeping for a few days didn't work out. Charlie was up as the sun was just hitting the six foot marker, but at least this time he'd been honestly exhausted and hadn't been plagued by any strange dreams.

It didn't change anything for the day though, because he still had this problem that he had to deal with. And it was something being smarter didn't help with since it had gotten him into the trouble to start with. Even the things that had been pleasurable and relaxing before, just thinking about them made him sick.

It was a miracle he hadn't died after all those trips in the sewer, or gotten any number of terrible diseases. And no one had bothered to try to do anything about it other than cursory incredulous inquiries. The only thing Charlie could even imagine was that he had some kind of amazing luck, to be so utterly dumb and do the dangerous shit he had.

Oh shit. The asbestos. He needed to go to an actual hospital and get checked out. What the shit had he been thinking? And all so Frank could watch fucking Real Housewives. No, Charlie wasn't better than them. He was flat out too good for them. Sure, he and Mac had been best friends in school, but high school had changed that between them, had changed Mac. They were different people now, and they were no longer best friends. Maybe no longer friends at all, and those ideas were things he had to give up on.

Charlie… didn't have friends.

He also didn't have insurance or money, so getting tests to see if he was going to die of cancer in fifteen years was unrealistic. He would die alone, choking and wasting away at the bottom of an abandoned pool. Perfect. Christ, he felt like Frank all of a sudden. He didn't know how many years he had, so time to just go throw all the shit he'd been burying down out. Let it all fly and fuck it.

Not literally.

But hey, two weeks ago, he didn't even know what literally meant.

Charlie climbed out of the pool to start his day.

***

The two men looked at one another.

Charlie was the first to back down, and just shrugged. "I need a favor."

"Come in, Charlie."

It was a horrendously awkward stretch of silence while he sat on the couch, slouched down and legs stretched out in front of him while the scientist sat next to him, turned in his direction. "I need to see a doctor, and I don't have any money."

" _I_ am a doctor."

But Charlie was already shaking his head. "No, dude, I mean a real doctor. I-" Talking about it, even vaguely, made it that much more scary. "You know all those commercials about asbestos exposure and mesothelioma and shit? Last year I was running power from the building next to the bar and I think there was asbestos in the wall."

The scientist's hand fell lightly on Charlie's arm. "You mustn't worry yourself. Unless you're exhibiting symptoms, the testing can bring up more questions than answers. Do you have any symptoms?"

"I guess not." Nothing he could tell anyway, but then he wasn't a doctor, which was why he wanted to see on. Again, too fucking confusing being able to logically progress along a specific train of thought. "Are you sure I can't take more pills to make me smarter faster?" He hated being confused, knowing he was confused, and unable to just let it go.

"I'm afraid not, Charlie. I could slowly increase your dose, but you wouldn't see results as quickly as I think you want to." His hand moved, from Charlie's arm to his leg. "Tell me what you're thinking. About yesterday."

Charlie stood abruptly and crossed to the other side of the room, shaking his head. "No, dude. I don't want to. That-that was just…" _Separate_. _Separate_. "I'm still not comfortable." He'd had so many negative experiences in his past, it was a wonder he didn't beat the scientist to a pulp and just hide in the pool like a hermit. Or go live under the bridge. Or become a drug-addicted degener… Well.

"What can I do to help you? That's all I want to do here, Charlie." He tilted his head, like a curious animal. A curious predator. "I could offer you a modicum of control, if you'd like. Come here." He tapped the spot next to him. "Sit."

Mouth as dry as a desert, Charlie went to sit.

_Separate_. That was what made him better.

His stomach was in knots.

_It felt pretty fucking good, and none of the bullshit._

That was it.

"Open your pants, Charlie."

That wasn't to say he was eager, because it was still weird, but yeah, he could do this. He lifted his shirt enough so that it wasn't covering his jeans, and undid the button. Before he could get the zipper down at all, the scientist's hand was there, doing it for him. Just that motion down the front of his underwear, a soft brush of knuckles, and he was starting to chub up.

"I want to watch you. I want to know what you like."

OK, just as long as he concentrated on himself and not the man sitting next to him, watching. Don't think about the hand lifting his shirt and blunt nails scratching through the hair on his chest. Don't think about it, just let it build.

_Separate_.

He shifted, slid lower so his ass was on the edge of the couch and his pants slouched down to give him freer access to his junk.

"Here."

Hand on his wrist, pulling gently but insistently, and yeah, it was obvious where this was going.

Without thinking (because that would just have him out the damned door; he was simple and scared deep down like a rodent), he matched the movement of both hands. It was easy that way, just close his eyes, bite his lip, no matter how awkward it was with his left arm extended, picture something or nothing, and just…

His left hand became jerky, not in the appropriate way, as he got closer to finishing (in an alarmingly short amount of time _again_ ) until the scientist wrapped one hand around his own.

This was shit he'd heard about when he was younger and thought it all sounded a little gay, but he was getting it now. Charlie gasped and let out a quiet, "Yeah." A long groan, different, relaxed and comfortable, not even a jerk of his hips before he creamed over his hand, onto his stomach and shirt.

Breathing heavily, eyes still closed, he let his hand be used until a hot, wet mess spilled over his fingers.

Just breathe. Just… separate, and it wasn't so bad.


	10. DAY 17

**[DAY 17]**

Charlie woke up the next morning, stripped down to nothing, in bed. There was a brief moment of panic until he saw his clothes in a neatly folded pile at the end of the bed. Oh yeah, the jizz, washing his clothes and wearing the scientist's robe, and then his pill, and…

_To relax you._

Again. Though he'd taken it mostly willingly this time. Really, it would have been a crime to not take quality drugs like that, especially when all they did was make him tired and floaty. Just made it that much easier to fall asleep in a still-awkward situation. He even thought that maybe he dreamed or didn't dream the scientist got into bed with him later.

And slept? Maybe. Nothing else, he was sure. Mostly.

Yeah.

_Fingers tracing his face. Warmth and comfort, like he was sick when he was young, and his mother would take very close care of him. Sticky trail of drool down his cheek as he rolled over, into the touch._

Just sleep.

He reached over to get his clothes, then sat on the edge of the big, soft bed and started to get dressed.

"Charlie?"

Glancing over at the door first to acknowledge the scientist, Charlie continued to slip his underwear on.

"Good, you saw them. Breakfast and then your pill?"

This was an interesting development, as he looked down at his dick that was slowly firming up for no reason he could figure. "Uh, yeah. Sure. I'll be right out." He just kept staring as he almost peaked, and then slowly returned to his resting state.

"Charlie, would you prefer coffee or tea?"

"Coffee," he answered automatically, not even catching it until he was pulling his shirt over his head. But so what if he skipped a beer that morning; something different was good every now and then. He'd just have the beer after breakfast, with his pill.

And there it went again. There was some serious Pavlovian response shit going on in his pants whenever there was something about taking a pill. Jesus, he had a stupid dick.

 

 

The space was different, but the routine was familiar. Just sitting on the couch, watching TV, drinking a beer, not worrying about a God damned thing. This was something he could get used to again.

  
  


Just a beer. That was probably his one weakness, how much he actually liked beer. Anything less than a six pack in a half hour wouldn't do enough to get him really shitfaced, so just having a single bottle here and there throughout the day didn't do anything to his state of mind. No, he just liked it, though Charlie would never be able to say why.

Probably just memories, way back in high school when it filled his belly and made school more tolerable to be in that silly, tipsy haze. Before he'd started ditching it for hardcore huffing, which was the best for putting school behind him.

Now he had actual food in him. Cooked food. Real food. Like homemade food. He loved his mom, but it was hard to remember living at home with any real fondness now that he had new clarity about his memories. So this was more what he thought of when it came to a meal made at home.

No catfood, no chicken scraps, no pigeon, no gray mush.

"You look satisfied, Charlie."

"I am, dude. I love spaghetti." And beer. He drained the bottle.

"Good." The scientist observed him for a moment, hands steppled in front of himself on the table. "I want to try another experiment, since you did so well with the last one."

Charlie pauses in mid-swallow, and sets the bottle down on the table. "Like what?"

"We should discuss that when we're done here. I don't want to leave dirty dishes scattered about."

Immediately Charlie was filled with anticipatory dread, having no idea what would be in store if he went along with this.

"It's harmless, Charlie. Don't be so afraid."

"I'm not afraid!" Why did people always think he was afraid?

The scientist shrugged. "Either way, it's up to you. If you feel up for it, or would prefer to return to your place in the pool."

Now that Charlie understood. Do it or get out, if only for the night. Though why that should be a threat to him was a little confusing. It's not like the pool was any real hardship on him now. Something was off, but he couldn't tell what. Instead of saying anything, making a decision, Charlie began to clean up his dinner dishes.

He was rinsing his plate off in the sink when the scientist came up behind him, standing very close.

"Tell me, Charlie. What will it be?"

"I don't know, dude. I need to think about it." Something definitely off, especially when the scientist's hand settled on his hip.

"I want you to come to this decision for your own reasons," the scientist said, breathlessly and pressing closer, "but here. Don't let this persuade you one way of the other."

An arm snaked around Charlie's chest, and a hand opened for him to see his familiar blue pill and a round orange pill. "Tell me, Charlie. Yes or no?"

Charlie stared at the pills, his dishes forgotten with the water still running like the white noise in his brain. "Yes."

That hand was at his mouth, fingers jabbing the pills into it and running over his tongue before exiting and holding his jaw shut. Only after he'd swallowed them, did it slide away across his neck. "Good. _Very_ good. Let's get started. In the bedroom."

Suddenly Charlie's head was throbbing, that pulsating pressure spreading throughout him, and he had to wonder if mixing those pills and beer was a good idea. But that floaty feeling, that was a nice thing to chase, to feel like he was on a bed of clouds even when he knew his feet were very firmly... moving to the bedroom. "Strong shit," he mumbled, and tripped over his own shoes. It couldn't be affecting him so quickly, not _this_ fast.

"Not so strong as to render you unconscious, I hope."

"Nah, man, I can handle my sedatives." He braced himself in the doorway for a moment, getting his wits about him. A few deep breaths and he didn't feel nearly as light-headed.

The scientist's hand grasped his shoulder lightly to move him along. "In here, Charlie, have a seat on the edge of the bed."

A small shove, and Charlie dropped, bouncing lightly on the mattress. "I don't know about this." He looked up at the scientist. It hadn't been long, barely ten minutes, but he could definitely feel the effects starting to kick in: his head felt very heavy.

"Prove to your friends you're smarter than they are. Prove to me."  Leaning down, the scientist's face came very close to Charlie's, as he his hand dropped to the crotch of his jeans.

Charlie bounced, almost smashing his head against the scientist's, at the unexpected contact, and fell back to catch himself on his elbows. "Dude…"

"Quiet, Charlie. You said you'd do this." He started rubbing, mostly with the heel of his hand until Charlie was full hard and squirming. "So do it. Prove it." Though he was bent awkwardly, not entirely balanced, the scientist was able to use his free hand to undo the button on his pants and pull down the zipper. After that, he lowered the waistband of his boxers over his erection.

Gaze vaguely distant as the floating feeling worked its way to every end of his body, top to bottom, Charlie struggled to sit back up. In this position, he was higher, didn't have it pointed quite so much at his face, especially since it was so weird. He'd never seen an uncut dick before, let alone one a foot from his face.

"Well?" He squeezed Charlie's boner through his jeans.

With an unsteady hand, Charlie took hold of it (hardly even grimacing) and tried a tentative stroke.

"It's not that difficult, is it?" And the scientist's hand was working over Charlie's crotch again.

After that, Charlie's grip and strokes got more confident as he got higher and closer to blowing his load in his pants, his head more distant.

"That's it, Charlie. Prove you're better than your friends." Taking a deep breath through his nose, the scientist ran his hand through Charlie's hair. "Take the next step." Hand through the hair again, this time cupping the back of his head and pulling it forward. "Every step forward is one more you leave those people behind." More pressure, bringing Charlie's head closer yet.

With his eyes rolled up, showing just the whites beneath barely-open eyes, from the combined stimulation, Charlie didn't fight the swollen head that was shoved between his parted lips. It slid across his tongue, deeper into his mouth, then retreated. The action was repeated as the scientist's hand worked down into his jeans and squeezed his rock-hard dick.

"That's not so bad," the scientist said in a near-whisper. "Keep going." In and out again, taking a string of drool with it. "Stick your tongue out. Yes, like that, all slippery. That makes it good." He let go of Charlie's head to hold his cock and rub it across the wet, pink end of Charlie's tongue. "Don't you think you're better than those others?"

It wasn't much, but his tongue extended a little further and he tilted his head back. A brief moment, Charlie's eyes rolling behind his eyelids, and he wetted his lips.

Hesitation on both their parts disappeared as Charlie opened his mouth again, and the scientist slid his cock in. With his own dick still being worked over, Charlie moaned before his eyes fluttered open and he looked up.

"Don't you feel smarter, Charlie? Doesn't this make you feel brilliant?"

He mumbled something before he ran his tongue over the shaft in his mouth, still looking up at the scientist.

"I think you're an amazing specimen." And with an undignified grunt, the scientist came in Charlie's mouth. "What a good boy you are, Charlie."

Eyes opening wide in surprise, Charlie pulled back, but the look only stayed for a moment as the hand on his dick caught him in the suddenly perfect way, with just a moment of pain as a hangnail scratched him lightly on the crown. With an inarticulate yell, he fell back to the bed and arched his back as he came.

He lay breathless with his eyes closed. Only when he felt a warm wet cloth gently cleaning his crotch and limp cock did Charlie open his eyes.

The scientist smiled. "You did an excellent job, Charlie. I'd call that experiment a success."

Charlie closed his eyes and fell asleep.


	11. DAY 18

**[DAY 18]**

"Let me, Charlie."

Charlie sat back and allowed the scientist rub shampoo into his hair.

"I can tell you don't pay enough attention to it. You need to get the grime off yourself so people can see you and how smart you are. Yes?"

A nod.

"Good. Lean back. I won't let you fall." He tilted Charlie back so his head was closer to the water, and rinsed the lather from his hair. "I won't let you fall now. Only success for you. That was the ultimate goal, to make you better, more than you were." He helped Charlie sit back up. "What do you think? How do you feel?"

"I'm smart."

"Yes you are. Smarter than anyone you knew before. Here, let me help you." Without waiting for permission, the scientist reached beneath the water, one sleeve rolled up precisely to a point just above his elbow, and started to fondle Charlie's soft prick. "This is a good way to start the day, isn't it?"

With a soft sigh, a sound that was so unlike the man's usual rambunctious personality, Charlie closed his eyes and leaned back. Goosebumps were rippling across his skin in the cool air, and his nipples were two hard points winking in and out of sight with the movement of the water. For a long quiet moment other than the gentle sloshing, his hand rested on the edge of the tub. The movement was tentative, just twitching of his fingers at first, but then moved to the scientist's knee.

It sat there, squeezing periodically, as Charlie's breath grew shorter, then slid up the smooth gray material of the trousers to the front. Lightly, with hardly any pressure at all, he rubbed the zipper seam in a small circle.

"That's so good, Charlie. Didn't even need your pill, did you? It all comes easy now, doesn't it? Because you're smart. Can you say it again? I want you to believe it. They can't take it away from you. They'll never take anything from you again."

"Because I'm smart." The pressure he was exerting increased. "I don't need them. I'm better than them." His fingers fumbled with the belt in the fold of the trousers and shirt, unable to get at it with the scientist crouching down next to the tub.

"We're not in quite the right position for this, are we? Shall we stay here, or go to the bedroom?" He removed his hand from the water, heard Charlie take a deep open-mouthed breath, and nodded to himself. "The bedroom, I think." As he stood, Charlie's hand fell limp over the side of the tub, the fingertips wrinkled and fish-pale, and a look of frustration slid briefly over his face. "None of that, Charlie. Come on."

The scientist held a large towel open for Charlie to step into, then folded it around him. Certainly Charlie was an adult, had survived in his own way since he'd been a child really; he didn't need anyone to take care of him. This was true, and they both knew it. But the scientist did so, vigorously wiping his body down with the towel, and Charlie allowed it, standing still as it happened.

His erection didn't flag at all, which was good to see. A quick tousel of the hair, and the scientist discarded the towel on the floor. As he led Charlie out of the bathroom, the other man hesitated at the door, glancing briefly at his clothes still piled on the vanity. "You don't need those. You know you're safe here." After the filthy, rat-infested, stinking hole he'd lived in before, where he somehow managed to live without a hazmat suit, the apartment was practically the lap of luxury.

No rodents, no cats, no garbage, no smell. Just cleanliness, warmth, food, beer, and drugs.

"On the bed. On your back, and you'll do as I say for being contrary in the bathroom, do you understand?"

Charlie frowned, his eyebrows drawing tightly together. "You can't just-"

The scientist shoved him, hard, and made him stumble backwards. The edge of the bed took out the backs of his knees and forced Charlie to sit. "I can't? You're mistaken. I _can_ , and I will, and you should be smart enough to know that. Shouldn't you?"

The two stared at one another before the scientist's expression softened. "I want to know about your father. How did he treat you?"

"No, I'm not talking about that, because I know you're gonna start asking about my mom, and you're gonna say how terrible she was, and, dude, that is just not right. She did what she needed to do."

"But she wasn't a _good_ mother, was she? And your father..." The scientist squinted a moment, watching Charlie closely. "He wasn't there. You lived in a lawless house, with no guidance and no discipline, nobody to help you with your schoolwork. Did you ever do something and have another person tell you how proud they were of you?"

Charlie looked down at his hands, frowning already, but grimacing hard when he apparently realized he was still naked.

"There's nothing wrong with that. It's not your fault. I knew very early on you were obviously a product of your environment, that maybe if your father had been there you'd be an athlete, or if your mother took an interest in your schooling that you'd have gone to college… Drexel? Temple? Or maybe you'd go someplace further away, make your way all the way to Cambridge."

Shoulders hunching, Charlie drew into himself, making himself smaller.

"But instead, you've been left on your own essentially, and failed to develop any sense of respect. For anyone, including yourself. Let me tell you, Charlie, I won't tolerate it. I can only think of one solution in this case, not to punish you, because I think you've been punished enough in your life, but so you can _learn_." In a casual and friendly manner, he placed his hand on the back of Charlie's neck. "And I know you can learn. You've learned so much already. Right?'

Charlie nodded, a picture of misery and shame.

It was heartbreaking, but to not follow through on what he'd said would only weaken the veracity of all the other things he'd said. "Charlie," the scientist said quietly, his hand massaging the back of his neck, "do you know why I have to do this?"

He nodded.

"Do you? Tell me why."

"Because I didn't-"

"No, it's not because of what you didn't do. It's because you were selfish, and now you're letting emotion get the better of you. You can remember it better this way, that emotion leads to pain."He exerted pressure on Charlie's neck, to bring him down across his lap.

But Charlie resisted, trying to squirm away. "What? You're gonna _spank_ me? What the hell, dude? I'm not a little kid!"

"Oh, I see. Then you'd prefer a proper beating, like a man, with a belt then? Very well. My father was spare with his punishments, but skilled with his belt when he exerted them. I never forgot my trespasses." The scientist started to stand.

"No! Fine."

"Fine?"

Barely audible: "The spanking."

"Don't sulk, Charlie," the scientist told him as he guided Charlie to stretch out over his lap. " _Learn_." His hand struck sharply on the bottom swell of Charlie's ass and the top of his thigh.

"Fuck!"

Again, this time higher up, more on the real meat of Charlie's rear. This made his body jerk, but he only grunted with the contact this time. True pain was not the purpose, so the next eight strikes stayed on the more resilient parts of Charlie's ass.

His compact body was limp, and sweat dotted the back of his neck. His entire ass was pink, and the scientist could feel the erection pressing into his leg.

"Here, Charlie. Why don't we get you your pills now? And then we can continue."

The apartment was silent Charlie slowly returned to upright and sat on the bed. The scientist got just the orange pill this time, and watched as it was swallowed dry. Taking his time, giving the pill the chance to take effect, he undressed down to his boxers. The brief interlude hadn't calmed his own erection at all; perhaps the anticipation had even increased it.

When he turned and noted Charlie's half-lidded eyes, he knew it was time. The scientist stepped forward, taking his place between Charlie's legs. "Now I think you know what to do. You don't need me to help you, do you?"

With a slow shake of his head, Charlie reached forward and lowered the scientist's shorts. After a quick lick of his lips, he leaned forward and engulfed the waiting erection.

"Yes, Charlie. Very good," the scientist praised him as he pet the man's head. He remained still, letting Charlie work at his own pace, giving him the control he desired. "Just what you wanted, isn't it? All that control…"

Charlie nodded, drool starting to run from the corner of his mouth.

"Excellent."


	12. DAY 47

**[DAY 47]**

"How do you feel, Charlie?"

"Good."

The scientist watched Charlie squirm in his seat. "Are you nervous?"

"A little, I guess."

"Do you need one of your pills?"

"Nah, I'll be fine. I just never have never been to something like this."

"Ah, I hope you're not uncomfortable then. I thought you deserved a treat like this. The food will be more expensive than should be legal."

Charlie just smiled in response.

"And you look very dapper in your tuxedo. I can tell it's not the first time you've worn one of those. You know how to carry yourself."

"A few times. Nothing that's a big deal like this. I've never met anyone important before."

The scientist laughed lightly. "You shouldn't be nervous at all. Just remember you're here as my research assistant."

"Won't people think that's, like, weird?" Charlie's fingers twisted together as he looked between the scientist and the city moving past the window of the limo.

"Not at all. You've been an astounding help to my work. Now." He turned in the seat to more face Charlie. "You must remember, Charlie…" He put his hand on Charlie's shoulder. "You belong to me. No matter what anyone else says to you, you are mine; they can't have you."

With his green eyes wide, Charlie nodded. "Sure. But what is someone gonna do?" He laughed a little, pitched high with nerves. "Kidnap me?"

"I don't know, but I value you enough that I don't want someone else to steal your attention. Maybe with a flashy car, or a pretty lady, or some illicit substance… You're above these petty and childish ploys." His hand slid from Charlie's shoulder over to his bowtie. A light tug and it came undone.

"Uh, aren't we almost there?"

"This will only take a moment. Because I trust you, Charlie, but I don't trust other people. These banquets are filled with predators." He undid the top button of Charlie's shirt. "Sit back, tilt your head back, and relax. Go on, close your eyes."

When Charlie finally did so, the scientist leaned over him, one hand on his crotch, and sucked on the flesh just to the left of and below Charlie's Adam's apple. He sucked, hard, and worried the skin lightly with his teeth until Charlie finally wriggled beneath him. It was no wonder: the skin was dark red and would certainly be purpling throughout the night, and he was tenting his trousers impressively.

"And now everyone will know that you belong to someone without you even needing to say a word," the scientist said as he rebuttoned the shirt and very sloppily redid the tie. The obvious mark would excuse the tie; a naive man like Charlie needed this kind of blatant evidence of his status, especially at these ridiculous banquets.

An unfamiliar face with attractive green eyes would be a target. It was a silly line of thought, frighteningly close to emotional investment. After all this time, emotional separation was still a core of what was happening, and Charlie was working with it easily now. Very soon, it would cease to be a consideration, he was sure.

"I'm not telling you what to do," he continued, "but I don't want anyone to take advantage of you. Yes, they would take the control from your hands if given a chance."

In a quiet voice, shifting his legs to adjust the seam of trousers against his erection, Charlie just said, "Dude."

The scientist patted his shoulder.

  
  


Charlie did a lot of smiling and nodding, and not so much talking. He ate copious amounts of fancy finger foods, and always had a glass of champagne in his hand. He stayed by the scientist's side other than brief moves to get a new glass of champagne or another snack.

Even when he was introduced to the distinguished guests, mostly mid and high-level politicians that were alumni of the university, he did very well. When eyes slid to the mark on his neck, eyebrows raised, Charlie didn't flinch or react. He said the words "research assistant" more times in one night than he'd ever _heard_ in his entire life.

A woman in a red dress and a lot of really shiny jewelry touched his arm a lot, even grabbed his wrist while she laughed at nothing. She was wearing too much perfume, and Charlie wrinkled his nose discretely in an effort not to offend.

She leaned in close, making him draw back subtly, and said, "You have beautiful eyes." One nail, painted to match her dress, caressed his throat over the mark. "Do you think your good doctor friend would mind if we…?"

Suddenly Charlie's heart was in his throat, beating rapidly and painfully. "If we… bang?" His voice was a ridiculous squeak.

The woman laughed again. "The boys without the degrees are always the most entertaining." Her hand was on his wrist again. "Shall we find somewhere slightly more private to continue our conversation?"

"That won't be necessary." The scientist was abruptly at Charlie's side, two glasses of champagne in his hands. "I don't believe my assistant is much interested in your conversation. Come along." He shoved one of the glasses into Charlie's hand, then took him by the elbow and led him away from the woman in red.

"Who was that?"

"A woman who has no business showing interest in men other than her husband at a public gathering like this. Did you think she was pretty?"

Charlie shrugged. "She was all right." He peered through the crowd to spot her. "Too much perfume, and the dress was too short for her legs."

With a light laugh, the scientist steered him toward the dining room. "Dinner's about to be served. Come along."

During the dinner, their table was situated to the side of the hall, so Charlie was easily able to slip out to use the restroom. He'd consumed a _lot_ of champagne, and while he was hardly tipsy, he had to piss like racehorse. The bathroom was empty, and it was an old habit that refused to die that made him inspect everything.

The mirrors were clean, and free of streaks or water residue. The sinks were dry, the fixtures sparkling. The towels and soap were full. There were even little bottles of moisturizer and cologne. The food he couldn't say one way or the other if it had been expensive, but this bathroom told him everything he needed to know about how fancy the place was. Even the God damn urinal cakes looked expensive.

Charlie whistled at the whole setup before directing his stream of piss right onto one of the cakes. Expensive or not, it was going to end up with a poor guy without a college degree's piss all over it. After he'd finished and was washing his hands, he glanced at himself in the mirror and had to stop.

There was hardly a thing different about him, other than his hair that had been neatly tamed for the evening, but Charlie could see _something_ that was not the same. The only thing that came to mind was self-awareness, that he finally recognized himself as a being that existed as part of the world, and not just his tiny little corner of Philadelphia. His words and actions held weight, could affect change, were not simply things of curiosity.

Charlie was truly beginning to see himself as his own man, and understand all the implications that held.

The door opened slowly, and the scientist looked in. "Charlie, is everything all right?"

"All cool, dude. Just washing my hands." And when had he ever washed his hands after using the bathroom before?

"Good. I saw that woman leave shortly after you did, and I was concerned."

"Nah, just me, pissing by myself."

"I'll be back at the table then." He started to retreat.

"Hey, why'd you bring me to this thing? You know I don't fit in at all, no matter how much smarter I am." One person, he could sort of compare himself to, if only by his progress, but a big gathering like this of smart and successful people? He looked about as smart as a smear of dog shit on the bottom of his shoe.

The scientist smiled. "To show you off." And he was gone.

  
  


Charlie was more than tipsy by the end of the night. He leaned heavily on the scientist as they made their way back to his apartment. The times he'd dressed in a tuxedo always seemed to end this way, with his tie undone, shirt unbuttoned, belt hanging loose… It was probably only luck that Charlie still had his shoes on, but he was feeling really good.

"Did you have a good time?"

"That was a lot of expensive food. And expensive liquor."

"That it was. Will you be hungover?"

Charlie shrugged. He'd never worried about it before, wasn't even totally sure what his tolerance was at.

"If you are, just make sure you keep the sick to the toilet."

"Yeah, barf on carpet is a bitch to clean. It's why I didn't bother." He laughed to himself, interrupted it with a belch, and a surge in his belly that felt very dangerous. "I… might need to puke. Or shit. Not really sure."

The scientist's hand was warm on the back of his neck. "It's fine. Just a moment for me to unlock the door…"

The darkness of the apartment was welcoming, and Charlie furiously kicked off his shoes so he could shuffle to the bathroom. The cool tile was nice under his knees and hands as he knelt in front of the toilet and just relaxed. He had a series of belches and worrying hiccups, but other than that, his stomach was settled. It seemed safe to go pass out not in the bathroom. He cupped his hands under the faucet and took several gulps of cold water, splashed a little on his face, then staggered into the bedroom.

"Let me help you."

His clothes were peeled off him, undressing him down to his underwear (new and clean for this special occasion), and he was allowed to flop on the bed where he was almost immediately asleep with a half-smile on his face. He'd totally forgotten about the bruise on his neck.


	13. DAY ??

**[DAY ??]**

Charlie didn't remember not being smart. Why would he want to anyway? He remembered being… unhappy mostly, but even that was distant and hazy. And thinking too much about it served no purpose because he was happy now.

He hadn't fallen into that arrogance like he had before; the scientist wouldn't allow him to do so. He'd worked hard, both humbly and quietly, maintaining his focus even as he had managed to cut back his alcohol intake to something more socially acceptable.

Currently, he was reading along as the man on the computer narrated a book about Egypt. Just yesterday he'd moved on to the grade four material, and was very pleased with himself. Granted, Egypt was pretty much boring as shit since none of the mummies the book talked about came to life. Duh, mummies coming to life was silly movie stuff, but it would have made Egypt way better.

After this one, though, was a book about penguins. No idea why the subject of penguins was so interesting, but he was really looking forward to it.

The door opened, but Charlie didn't remove his concentration from the monitor in front of him. Roughly ten minutes later, after he'd answered the questions (all correctly), he went to greet the scientist. "I think I'm ready to take the driving test. I'm pretty sure I can get through most of the questions."

"That's excellent!" The scientist paused when he looked over at the filled dish cabinet. "Did you clean today? I thought you usually did that Thursdays."

Charlie shrugged. "I got crumbs on the floor at lunch. Figured I might as well do it today."  He stared hard at the counter, watching the scientist make dinner preparations. "I went to the store today," he said quietly. "I-I saw Mac there."

"Did you speak to him?"

"No. I think he saw me, but I didn't know what to say, and he didn't come up to me." He sat on a stool in the corner under the corkboard filled with yellow reminder notes. "Mac was my best friend before he even knew Dennis, and now he acts like he doesn't even know me. What a shitty thing to do."

"I know, Charlie. Are you OK?" Prep had been abandoned so the man good watch Charlie closely.

"I guess I just expected more, which in hindsight is a stupid thing to do. Shit, I knew they… I knew they'd forget me because they never gave a fuck about me." Here was that hazy unpleasantness, less that he had forgotten it than he'd suppressed it the best he could, just how lonely and rejected he'd felt again and again.

"No, none of that now. Everything's fine, Charlie. You don't have to think about that ever again."

Without even realizing his eyes had been squeezed shut because his vision had blurred with tears, Charlie snapped them open when the scientist hugged him.

"Was there something you wanted to say to Mac? Maybe something you've wanted to say for a long time?"

"I don't know. Maybe… why wasn't I good enough to be his best friend? That could have been him and me living together, in a two bedroom apartment, not eating fucking cat food! I feel fucking betrayed! I should've walked up to him and spit in his face."

"Should you have?'

"...No. I did the right thing. If he saw me, he didn't want anything to do with me, and I should feel…" There was no saying how he should feel, except that there was no single word to describe it. Without thinking, without conscious effort, Charlie brought his arms up and returned the hug. Just a moment of comfort to mourn the loss of what might have been.

"What was your next book?" the scientist asked, his warm breath tickling Charlie's ear.

"Penguins."

"Why don't you take the laptop and sit in the recliner with the fuzzy blanket and read about penguins. Don't worry about the quiz. Relax until dinner's ready. How does that sound?"

"Good."

"Well go on then."

"Dude, I am such a big baby." Charlie pulled out of the hug and wiped his eyes on the cuffs of his shirt. "I never thought it would get to me that much. Thanks."

The scientist smiled at him; that singular quality of eternal benevolence was something Charlie was very used to. It wasn't pity, just patient understanding.

Charlie returned to the living room, gathered the laptop and his favorite fuzzy blanket (patterned in brown and cream tiger stripes), and settled into the recliner. Penguins. Penguins were better than Mac any day.

***

The scientist watched with half-lidded eyes as Charlie unbuttoned and removed his shirt. He didn't speak, didn't comment on what he saw, but never failed to appreciate the masterpiece-in-progress the man's back was.

Faded bruises from the belt, bite marks and hickeys around the love handles, scratches across his shoulder blades… Yes, an abstract painting just starting to take shape, one that would morph over time as marks healed and new ones were created. No scars though; it wasn't some kind of base fetishization, no one was taking pride in it. It was just what Charlie, at times, liked.

_"I don't know. It just… lets me go far away from 36 wasted years, and…" He looked helplessly down at his hands, picking at the frayed hem of his old t-shirt. "It feels like that's the only way I can let it out."_

_"It?"_

_"How bad it makes me feel. I mean, it's like the physical pain carries it away with it. If that makes any sense. It sounds like crazy shit, doesn't it?"_

_"It sounds like if it helps you, it really doesn't matter."_

Reduced to a silently crying heap, skin bruised and sensitive, and then fucked to euphoria, to fall into a deep and untroubled sleep those nights.

"Sorry for earlier," Charlie said as he slipped under the covers, naked.

"Don't be sorry. Are you feeling better?"

A non-commital noise.

"What do you want? Don't shut down, Charlie. Do you need something?" The scientist had his hand on Charlie's shoulder, thumb stroking gently over his collar bone.

"I… I need you."

"Charlie…"

There was a brief moment where the scientist was going to dismiss the words and where Charlie was going to loudly protest, but neither of them did those things.

When Charlie spoke, it was soft and hesitant, more like a child than anything. "You're the only one who understands. I can't just walk out the door and find someone who will get all the shit I've been through, and know how to help. Put up with me, and all the dumb shit I'm doing like a fucking kid. I'm a grown man that needs someone to take care of him. How do I explain that to someone? They'll just laugh and make fun of me, and I deserve it because I wasted my life."

"No, Charlie. Just listen. You were getting along before. You don't need anyone to take care of you. You should never let anyone tell you you're less than they are, and if they make fun of you, it's because they are inferior. They don't understand. They're not as smart."

Charlie sniffled. "That's bullshit, dude. Even I can tell that."

"It's not, because good people won't care. They might not like you, but it won't be based on how much schooling you've had, and if they do like you, they won't care. Are you listening to me?" He reached out, just touching Charlie's hair. "Do you hear me, Charlie?"

"Yeah."

"Do you _believe_ me?"

"I guess."

"But you're still afraid people won't like you because-"

"Just like my mom, who only got along because she was a whore, and nobody liked her for any reason other than that. I don't even have that. I don't… I can't… I'm scared. Sometimes I feel empty, and I'll never have anything."

The scientist finally raked his fingers through Charlie's hair, unsuccessfully smoothing down the wild mass. "I want to try something a little different, Charlie. Something that might… give you a little bit of what you want."

"Will it hurt?"

"No, Charlie. I don't want to hurt you. The exact opposite." He continued petting Charlie. "Do you trust me?"

"Yeah, you know I do."

"I'll be right back." Charlie was a trusting soul, to a worrisome point, and the scientist only hoped this was for the right reason. This shouldn't have been about an unearned trust, something born from a lack of choice and fear. He wanted to believe Charlie truly trusted him.

Charlie was still curled into himself, hidden under the covers, but his breathing was regular, not slow enough to indicate sleep (the man had an incredible ability to fall asleep instantly). "Charlie? Are you ready?"

Without a word, he pushed the covers down and rolled to his stomach.

"I said I wanted to try something different. On your back, and hold on to the headboard." After Charlie did so, looking very unsure about the whole thing; his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "It's just a variation of what you like," the scientist assured him, kneeling on the edge of the bed, clearly revealing the items in his hands. "And I'm sorry, but it sounds like this is something you need. If that's my fault, that I've brought up unpleasant memories, I apologize."

"It's not your fault. It's just… something I'll have to get over. Eventually. I guess." He fidgeted a little, flexing his fingers where they gripped the headboard. "Can I close my eyes?"

"If you wish."

He did, and the scientist leaned over to very loosely tie the belt from his bathrobe around Charlie's wrists. So loose, it could barely be considered actually tying it; all Charlie had to do was let go and he could pull his hands apart. The weight of the material was more the point than any actual restraint.

"Those aren't…?"

"No. One last thing." A towel, one of those awkwardly sized ones that was too small for anything useful and too big for convenience, was next. He draped it over the top half of Charlie's face, covering his eyes and the tip of his nose, but leaving his mouth clear. It was the perfect size for this, but probably wasn't intended exactly for it. "Charlie, open your eyes. Can you see anything?"

"Just the towel."

"And you feel the restraints on your wrists?"

"Yeah."

"You can remove either of these things at any point. You're not restrained or blindfolded. Do you understand?" The scientist looked him over with each answer, noting the nervous jiggle of his right foot, the flexing of his biceps, and the gradual prominence of his erection.

"Any time? Even right now?"

"Even right now."

Charlie's cock twitched. "OK." And he remained still, restrained and blindfolded.

This was new territory. Charlie had never left his front exposed like this, flat out in bed, but he was remaining surprisingly calm. "Are you ready, Charlie?"

"Yeah."

 

More than anything he wanted to squirm away. The touch across his knees was tickling him, almost to the point he was ready to kick out, but then it moved up. This was weird, to have hands on his legs, the pressure on his thighs, just heavy enough to be real and not a trick of his imagination.

Thumbs grazed his inner thighs, and Charlie was sure it would all end with his balls in a threatening grip and his dick getting stroked. The hands moved in the opposite directions though, outward, gliding over his hips, pausing to make small circles.

The scientist moved, got closer and shifted his weight, and his hands moved up again, and inward. When those fingers sifted through the hair on Charlie's chest, and palms skimmed over his nipples, he was achingly hard. Such small touches, not even to his junk, not bound or truly blinded, and this was where he was at already.

A knee nudged up into his crotch, not quite mashing his balls, but it made Charlie's breath catch for a terrifying moment. The weight shifted again, the knee sliding back to remove the pressure, and a warm thigh nudged up against the side of his dick (which hadn't lost interest despite the near ball crushing).

He let the fingers tilt his head, just to the side to reveal his neck, and then processed the feeling of the scientist's body against his. That was so consuming, so much for Charlie to try to figure out, he didn't even feel the mouth on the side of his throat and tongue across his jugular vein.

What did he think about another dude's dick rubbing against his (even though the scientist was still wearing those stupid boxer shorts)?

_wasn't so bad_

What was did it feel like to be pinned down this way, naked and helpless?

_he wasn't helpless, he wasn't pinned down_

_he had as much control of the situation as he wanted; he didn't have to stay still and just take it if he didn't want to_

"Tell me something, Charlie," the scientist said, breathing heavily across his ear, and derailing his train of thought. "Tell me what you think of when you come. Who do you think of? Is it that woman? Someone else? Do you think of bashing rats, or sniffing glue and being high? What is in your head in that moment when you can't lie to yourself because you can't even think straight?"

How could he answer that? How could he say? It was against everything he believed.

The scientist's hand, now warm and slick reached between them to slowly stroke Charlie's dick. "Tell me, Charlie."

His grip on the headboard was white-knuckled, using the leverage to thrust into the body over him. But he couldn't say, couldn't make the admission.

Now the oiled fingers were working him open, one and then two, with his pulse alternating between his dick and his asshole. "Please," Charlie whimpered quietly.

"I want to know, Charlie. I don't want you getting off on bad influences, thinking about all those times you were killing your brain." He started moving the fingers in and out slowly. "Tell me!"

The answer escaped past his conflicted hesitance. "You! I think about you even though I know I'm not supposed to! I-I can't separate any longer." Charlie's breath caught in his chest, and when gasped, it stuttered like a sob more than anything. "Don't be mad. Please. I'll do whatever you want, just don't make me leave."

It was more than just the scientist being the one that understood him. This life was all he had.

"I'll get a job, I'll do Charlie work, and pay rent. Just don't make me go." He wanted to cry, to just let it all go, too scared to be embarrassed by it. His life was almost literally on the line here.

"I won't make you leave, Charlie," the scientist said, his entire body very still, though remained pressed against Charlie's. "Don't feel bad for developing… feelings. I'm very fond of you, and that's why I wanted to do this for you. I want you to enjoy this. I _don't_ want you to hold back." He started to move his hand again, then stopped, drawing a low whine from Charlie. "That's what you mean, right? That you have feelings. For me."

"Yeah. I don't-"

His words were smothered and the breath sucked from his lungs as the scientist kissed him. It lasted a brief moment before the scientist was teasing him with the slow push of fingers again.

Charlie was rotating his hips, following the movement, trying to keep it, get it deeper even as his stomach was doing slow rolls and flips from nervousness and pure want. The little noises were becoming impossible to control.

"I told you: let yourself go. Don't hold anything back. You've never done it before, so why are you doing it now that you've confessed? What do you have left to hide?"

The fingers withdrew, and Charlie knew it, just _knew_ it that he'd fucked it all up like the stupid little dirtgrub he was. Like he'd always be no matter how hard he tried to make himself better. What did he have left to hide? Shame. A shame he'd felt ever since he'd known how stupid he was. There was more, but it all stemmed from that.

"I'll take care of you, just like I always have, when you need to release it. I don't plan on ever changing that arrangement."

Words. Just words. And people lied.

"Here. I'm not done with you. You know I don't stop until I have you completely spent, Charlie. How many times have you begged for more? Enough that I think I know what you want."

And now Charlie was blushing because he'd seen enough and heard enough to know that begging for more made him a slut. He never thought of himself that way, had been interested in the idea of sex more than the actual act, but…

The hand returned, this time using all the tricks that had Charlie fucking into it almost immediately. It continued like that, never quite enough friction or pressure, for a minute. Charlie gripped the headboard until his hands hurt, flexing and stretching his entire body in a way the usual position didn't allow.

"I'm going to fuck you now, Charlie. Is that something you want?"

The physical response was automatic as soon as the scientist's hand released his cock.  "Yes," Charlie hissed, relaxing, ready to receive.

"And then, when we're done," the scientist said as he effortlessly slid into Charlie's eager hole, "maybe you can have one of your special pills." He thrust and the odd position drove the breath from Charlie's lungs. "Would you like that?

Again, this time making him grunt and driving him back toward the head of the bed. "Yes, I want that." His dick was straining, pressed against his own stomach instead of desperately waiting for any kind of contact beneath him. It wasn't the only thing he wanted, but he didn't need to say anything to get that. He only needed to finish out the ride, no thoughts, no worries, just…

It was a collection of new sensations, where he was used to hands on his hips or back, over his stomach was unfamiliar. The hand at the base of his spine, exerting gentle pressure was also new. Then the sure grip on his cock as it was trapped between their two bodies and stroked confidently along with the rhythm of the pounding his prostate was taking. His grunts were coming with a little more force every time.

Further pressure, weight and warmth, as the scientist leaned down. The positioning forced Charlie's knees to bend and fold more toward his chest, his ass riding the dick in it higher. He needed to come so badly he wanted to cry.

Hot breath across his neck, and then a series of very aggressive kisses there that would very likely leave something of a mark behind for each one (hidden beneath his beard), and Charlie was so utterly conflicted by it all he didn't know what to do. This was all just worsening his weakening resolve to somehow remove emotion from this complicated equation.

"It's fine, Charlie. It's more than fine, the two of us."

The scientist could read him perfectly, knew how close he was, could read the conflict in him after his admission. Was he…?

"Hold on, darling boy. I'm going to pound you through the wall."

Charlie groaned, and for a moment further tightened his hold on the headboard. How could he hold on any more than he already was? It was sudden realization when his head smacked into the wall: Charlie unlocked his fingers and pulled his hands apart, forcing the belt that formed his loose binding to fall away. His shoulders ached as he lowered his arms, but only enough so he could put them around the scientist.

This was where he could hold on. He was finally understanding that he'd been given permission, body and brain

_and heart_

to be and do what he needed to warm that hollow place in him. Maybe he could even find some measure of completeness in his life (not that he even knew what that would be like, couldn't imagine such a thing).

And he was sweaty, and oily, pre-come lost in that mess on his stomach, panting and hanging on to the scientist as if his life depended on it.

"Yes, Charlie, we're almost there. Harder, is that what you want?"

He was babbling, just a stream of nonsense spoken against the scientist's shoulder, and even that was reduced to desperate noises as he was driven back, getting pinned against the wall. Noises that escalated into a low wail as  he came with an intensity he didn't know was possible. Charlie's fingers curled, trying to get fistfuls of flesh to hang on to, but when that proved fruitless and he couldn't stop the high-pitched whining from his mouth, he bit down hard.

There was a hissed swear, and the pounding continued harder than before, until with a shuddering breath and fingers digging into Charlie's flesh, the scientist shot his load.

Charlie was sweaty and cold and alone, with the taste of blood in his mouth, when the scientist disentangled them. When he opened his eyes (because he could have done that at _any time_ ), it was to a sight he'd never seen before: the scientist looking completely disheveled, probably just about how Charlie himself felt. "Your hair's messed up."

Insight of a genius. Charlie turned and wiped his mouth, trying to hide the shame at saying something so idiotic. But he'd said it because he didn't know what was supposed to be said. Eye contact directly… after, he'd never done that.

But the scientist only laughed lightly before touching his shoulder and looking at his fingers. "You broke the skin, Charlie."

"Sorry," he mumbled and turned to hide his face in the pillow.

"It's fine. Don't worry yourself. Just let me clean myself up."

Him leaving, just to the other room, made Charlie feel very small, very vulnerable in a way he couldn't quite remember having felt before. Even though his hands were free to defend himself, and his eyes were open to see what might come at him, he was still completely defenseless and open. It was terrifying. This was what emotions did to a person: left them small and scared and helpless.

The scientist returned, to Charlie's immediate relief even if he didn't remove his face from the pillow. And while he was expecting some kind of demand of him, if only to show his face, nothing was asked.

"We've made a mess of you, Charlie. Come over here so I can get you nice and tidy for bed."

He did, of course, because he was used to doing what the scientist asked of him, and the warm cloth felt nice as it cleaned the mess off his stomach, his cock, his sack, and even gently across his rather annoyed asshole.

"Would you like a pill? I said you could have one."

A pill to induce the sensation of weightless euphoria… "Nah, I'm good." He was already there, only anchored vaguely to the earth by the mild discomfort of his sphincter.

"If you're sure."

When the hand pulled at his shoulder, Charlie didn't resist. He rolled over and immediately saw the bite mark he'd left. A perfect set of dental imprints, red and inflamed, some still welling with blood, in the rise of the trapezius; the scientist seemed unconcerned by it. "Fuck." He reached up tentatively, stopping just before his fingers came into contact with the other man's skin.

"It's fine, Charlie." The scientist looked down at it the best he could. "That may leave a permanent scar."

"Aw shit, I didn't mean-"

"I said it was fine. The idea doesn't bother me."

"Oh. I guess… uh. I didn't…" He finally gave in, touching the mark very lightly with two fingers. This was quite possibly the first mark Charlie Kelly had ever left on the world.


	14. YEAR ??

**[YEAR ??]**

"Dude, you can't just…" Charlie shoved the scientist's hands away. "I can tie it myself."

"The last time you attempted to do so, you made a noose and almost choked yourself."

"I've been practicing!"

"Full Windsor?"

"Only half." His hands made the loops, slipped in and out, adjusted the length, pulled it tight. "See? I can learn. Still." Charlie grinned triumphantly as he turned to show off his accomplishment.

The scientist looked it over carefully, critically. "A decent effort, Charlie, but…" He started loosening the tie. "I do believe you've missed something." With the tie out of the way, he unbuttoned Charlie's shirt. "I can't believe you forgot it."

"Wha-" Before he could finish the thought, let alone the words, the scientist was marking his favorite spot again. "That's gonna show in the picture," Charlie said, a little breathlessly, his eyes closing, as he tilted his head to give better access.

"Then I'll have to frame it and keep it bedside." One hand was in Charlie's hair, pulling his head back further, while the other was gripping his ass through his trousers.

"I'm going to be so embarrassed when I show up with a boner."

"Maybe they'll simply believe you're excited for your charity work." The scientist smiled against Charlie's neck before kissing him just beneath his ear.

"Volunteer work, not charity. And it's nothing. I shouldn't even go to this thing." The blush of embarrassment was working its way up his neck, and it had nothing to do with the growing tent in the front of his pants. "I don't do shit. I just show up and-"

"Do everything asked of you, and more. Charlie, this wouldn't be happening if they didn't think what you were doing deserved it." The scientist was re-doing the shirt and tie. "Do you have your speech?"

The dinner was the annual fundraiser, where employees, donors, and volunteers of special note were being honored. Charlie had never been honored before, by anyone, for anything. "Yeah," he said, his hands suddenly sweaty as he reached into his jacket pocket to feel the pair of index cards there.

Two. Two index cards covered with his sloppy handwriting, rivaling that of a sixth grader. That had been all he could manage to come up with for something like this. He just _knew_ he was going to be humiliated in front of everyone. Shit, he shouldn't have agreed to go, he should have told them he was going to be out of state, out of the country, on a different planet.

"Remember, Charlie. Remember it's not the words you say, but the heart and conviction you say them with. And nobody minds a short speech, trust me."

The edges of the cards were getting bent, he could tell, from how much he'd been touching them, verifying their existence. If he got up in front of all those people without his cards, without the words in front of him (no matter how simple), it would probably be a struggle just to say his own name.

"I got you something. Wait here."

Shit shit shit, he shouldn't have agreed to it; he was not a man who functioned well under pressure. Charlie took the cards from his pocket to read them over once more. Jesus, he was going to sound like a total imbecile to all the other people there, the ones who had gone to college and had lots of money and were successful.

"I know that look, Charlie. You mustn't do that, mustn't let your doubts rule you. Here." It was a single small cube of cheese, aged and ripe, sharper than a sword.

Charlie's eyes widened. "You know my weakness. Gimme."

"Open." The scientist waited for Charlie to open his mouth, eagerly and with his tongue out, before placing the cheese in there. He withdrew his fingers before Charlie could trap them, then stroked down his beard to cup Charlie's chin as he chewed.

"Oh that's good. Jesus. Let's go before I lose that taste on my tongue."

The scientist smiled and shook his head. "That's disgusting, Charlie."

***

He stared down at his index cards.

This was the handwriting he'd actually filled out an application with for a paid position, to move beyond being a volunteer. Charlie wanted to cringe, but since he was standing at a podium in front of a couple hundred people, he didn't.

He blinked, looked out at the people, expectant faces with all their attention on him, the familiar faces of the people he worked with smiling. The mark on his neck, fully visible in the bright light trained on him, was forgotten.

A deep breath, and he started to speak.

  
  


The scientist shoved Charlie hard against the bathroom door. "You did perfectly." His hands were unbuckling Charlie's belt. "Did you hear everyone applauding for you?" Once the belt was undone, button and zipper followed. "I hope you're very pleased with yourself." He yanked down Charlie's pants and underwear together to reveal that his prick was already swelling. "I am. Very pleased indeed."

"What are…? Hey, youre-"

"Hush." With his hands on the backs of Charlie's thighs, the scientist could feel the other man's body immediately tense up.

"Dude."  Spoken with something like revenance.

The scientist swallowed Charlie down to the root in one motion, and earned a strangled yelp. While that was the loudest sound Charlie made, he made a delightful host of other noises as it took only a half-dozen deep swallows before he was coming.

After drawing out the final weak spurts, the scientist stood, drew up Charlie's clothing and re-fixed it. Before pulling him away from the door, another mark was added to the sensitive skin almost on the back of his neck. "Mine, Charlie, and your ridiculous love of cheese, and your obsession with cats, and your inexplicable enjoyment of cleaning." The scientist leaned his forehead against Charlie's. "You're mine."

Between taking deep gulps of air, quietly Charlie said, "Yours."

***

Charlie had spent years sleeping in a small, dirty bed with a small, dirty man (while he himself was a small, dirty man), with a definite demarcation between the two of them. There was a vague measure of security this way, akin to a pack of feral animals, but no warmth, no true comfort. It had been better that way than being alone.

But it wasn't better than this.

Charlie's head was being cradled as he curled into the scientist's body, slowly slipping to sleep.

"This was a good night, Charlie."

It _had_ been, and he murmured his agreement even as he tentatively slid his arm over the scientist's waist.

"Good night, Charlie."

"G'night."

Smoothing his hair briefly before planting a soft kiss on Charlie's temple, the scientist then reached over and turned out the light.

**[END]**

**Author's Note:**

> Tumblr-y stuff:  
> [My screencaps](http://echoisles.tumblr.com)  
> [My fandom junk](http://echoislesfandom.tumblr.com)


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